Running in the Rain
by greeneyedkc
Summary: Charlie's sister has died in a car crash. Now Amergin, Bella's cousin has to move from her sunny California home to Forks. An orphan and in an unfamiliar place, Amergin finds herself wrapped up in the Twilight universe!
1. Chapter 1

Blue. Nothing. Red.

Blue. Nothing. Red.

Over and over and over again the colors flashed. The familiar surrounding, the room whose most insignificant detail I knew, was pulsing in unfamiliar colors and seemed distorted. Everything was quiet. It was like being trapped underwater. My chest hurt as if I had been holding my breath for too long. I tried to focus on the fireplace, across from me. Not my hands. Count. If I could count each brick I could somehow forget. What comes after 3? I couldn't get over the fact that the typically white fireplace also flashed blue. Then, it would become dark, then flashed red. The cycle was haunting and disrupted my counting. Instead, I gazed at each picture on the mantle; most of which I couldn't see, but I knew them all by heart. Smiling, laughing, lying. All lies.

A light pressure squeezed my shoulder, startling me. The room was quiet, peaceful, with the flashing lights and the numbness that had come over me. I knew there was anger and a horrible grief somewhere inside of me, but somehow I had managed to tune it out—or rather down, from a roar to a muffled groan. I turned to see what had interrupted my internal struggle and realized that the man I had let in earlier was still with me. He was wearing a police uniform. How long ago did I let him in? Was it only minutes ago? –it could have been hours? –maybe eons? Had he been here the whole time?

His lips were moving, but as to what they were saying, I didn't know. Staring at his lips I noticed that the top lip was much fuller than the bottom. His teeth were white, even in the darkness that surrounded us, contrasting his coffee brown skin. He was young, maybe mid-twenties, but his forehead was creased in concern and his eyes were full of sadness. I wanted to smile, to touch his face and to wipe away the worried lines. Somehow fixing whatever had made him sad. My face wouldn't cooperate though. And then the sound started to come back to me and the numbness in my brain began to melt away.

"Miss," I could here him say. "Amergin…Miss Casey… I'm sorry." Why was he sorry, it didn't make sense? "Would you like me to call anyone? Or do anything for you?"

I just stared at him, not really understanding what he meant by anything he said.

"Officer…"

"Please, call me Ben" the officer said, interrupting me.

"Okay… Ben," I whispered hoarsely, "is she really—" I didn't want to say it. Saying the words would make it true, but I had to do it. "Is she really… really…gone?" The words hurt more than I thought possible. Why did I feel this way saying it? I had seen it.

"The Paramedics tried, Amergin. They really did. And you did, too. But she was gone when they got here. I think, from what you were saying, she was gone before you got home, too."

I had nothing to say. What was there to say? I just sat looking out the window, watching the waves break on the beach. I needed to see her, to make it final. To know, and be completely certain, that my mother was not alive.

"I need to see her." I didn't phrase it as a question, because, in my mind, there was no question about this matter.

"I don't think that that's such a great idea. Miss Casey –"

"Amergin," I interrupted him.

"…Amergin. Would you like me to call anyone for you?" Ben's face was so full of pity. He knew that there was no one. My mother had left me completely and utterly alone. Well, that wasn't entirely true. There was Uncle Chuck and I really needed to talk to Rayne; but I just had to see my mother, to ask if there had been anything that I could have done. Begging would be the best course of action – the world wouldn't restart until I saw my mom and I wasn't above it.

"Please," I could feel the tears welling in my eyes, "I need to see her." I chewed on my bottom lip, holding back the tears and hysteria I could feel inside of me, held back by shear force of will.

"Okay, we can make some phone calls on the way to the..." _morgue, _I finished for him in my head. Getting up from the couch, he let out a sigh and looked down at me. Then I got up, too, and grabbed my bag from the table in the entryway where I had dropped it before… everything. I noticed two pieces of _her _stationary underneath my bag that I hadn't paid any attention to before. One had my name on it, the other simply said "To the Officer." I slowly reached for them, calling out Ben's name as I did. He turned to me in the doorway, confused. We each took our respective letters, he opened his immediately, but I just tucked it away. It could be her last words to me forever. I would wait. After the officer had read the note, he looked at me for what felt like forever. When we finally stated walking toward the police cruiser, a woman I hadn't noticed earlier followed after me, she too wore a police uniform.

The night was cold, but it felt nice against my overheated skin. The air was refreshing and clean with the taste of salt and the smell of rain – Rayne. As I stepped into the backseat of the police cruiser I pulled my cell phone out and held the number three speed dial, it went straight to voice mail.

"Hi," said the Irish accented voice, "I'm sorry I've missed yer call. But if ya leave a message at the tone I'll be glad ta call back as soon as I can." It was nice to hear his voice; it was soothing, even if it was just a recording.

Beep.

"Rayne," I said in little more than a whisper, "it's Amergin. I really need to talk to you," my voice cracked on the last word. "My mom might be…" I couldn't say _it_ out loud, like if I said _it _then it would have to be true, and _it _couldn't let it be. "I wasn't there. Just call me back when you get this." I hit the end call button and stared at the phone. I guess Charlie would be next.

Ben looked at me from the driver's seat, "the letter said you would call him first. It also said that you should to call Charlie." I went into my address book to find his number and hit the call button.

"Hello," said a groggy female voice after the fourth ring. I checked the time on my phone, two a.m. Oh. "Hello?" the voice, I recognized to be Bella's, said again.

"Hey Bella, its Amergin" I said in the same hoarse whisper I used to leave a message for Rayne.

"Am, is something wrong?" Bella, always so perceptive, "Are you okay?" I wondered at how many phone calls she got at two in the morning to make a question like "_is something wrong?"_ important.

"I'm fine, Bells. Just get Charlie, would you?"

"Okay Am, I'll go get him," I could hear the phone being set down and Bella calling out Charlie's name on the other end.

Now a very tired and concerned man answered the phone, "Hello?" He cleared his throat, then said "Amy, is that you?"

"Yeah," again I was whispering. What was wrong with my voice? It was like all the emotion I refused to feel was constricting my vocal chords.

"Amergin," Charlie now sounded more awake, and much more like a police officer receiving bad news, "what's wrong?"

"Charlie, I'm fine. But Mom…" I heard a sharp intake of breath, "she did it." As Charlie was taking very audible deep breaths on the other line, my own façade crumbled a little, bit by bit. I looked at Ben driving and decided to tap his should, "Charlie, this is Ben. He's going to tell you what happened…" My voice cracked and died at the end of my sentence. Handing the phone to Ben, I leaned against the window of the car and closed my eyes.

"Hello... Charlie Swann?... this is Officer Ben Smith. I have some bad news..." I stopped listening to the words being said, and just let the officer's soothing baritone lull me to a half-sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

There I was, standing in front of a morgue, eyes closed and heart pounding in my chest. If only my... no, she's not. So, I'm alone? I couldn't be, but I was afraid of confirming the inevitable truth that my mother was… _gone. _I gulped down more of the ocean breeze, then the air turned stale and tasted of antiseptics as Officer Smith pulled the door to the morgue open.

"I'll be right behind you. And Mr. and Mrs. Michelson and Ms. Phisher are on their way," said the officer softly. Instead of asking the obvious how did they know?, I gave Ben a quick nod, afraid of what might come out if I were to open my mouth. "You know, you don't have to do this." I looked back at the officer, and, again, nodded my head in agreement.

"But I need too," I choked out, trying to explain the irrational impulse driving me to _see_ what happened to my mother.

Despite shaking knees and a spinning head, I clenched my jaw, tilted my chin up, and began to walk into the darkness. I headed straight past the front desk, ignoring the woman at the counter - if i stopped, for anything, what was left of my strength and sanity would completely crumble.

As I opened the second set of doors I saw _her_ on a stainless steel table. Of course there were other bodies there, but only one with light brown curly hair. Like a perverse statue, the body that lay on the table was a poor tribute to the lively, erratic woman that was my mother. I walked straight to her table but kept my eyes on my feet, because I was fearful of what I might see. The woman I had known didn't believe in sleeping, so it would be hard to pretend that was what was happening. She laughed at the idea of retirement and rest was just another word she tried not to use. She lived her life with as much passion as she could pretend. But, I knew it was my mother—and not because I had been the one who had painted the neon hue on her toenails, nor the fact that her ankle tattoo, "Cuimhnigh i gcónaí"was clearly visible.

No, it was because my mother was also the woman who would spiral into a grief filled depression once year. She had needed a child to grow up at the tender age of 9 to take care of her. This ending was what she had wanted for a long time, I had just not gotten in the way of it this time. Somehow, that was a thought I could hold onto. She had lived and died on her own terms.

Gripping the table until my knuckles were white, I closed my eyes and took deep steadying breaths, refusing to succumb to the unconsciousness that threatened to take me over. And then, I looked up.

Oh God.

Her face already looked bloated and I could smell the tequila, still. But it was the blood and bruises that were blossoming on her chest that made my stomach turn. Bloody handprints traced patterns of attempted CPR. I could clearly see my failed attempts to resuscitate her and I finally remembered to look down at my own person. I was covered in my mother's blood. My hands had left the bloody prints. My knees were covered in the blood that had pooled around my mother as I tried my best to save her from herself. I flipped her arm over to look at the offending slashes that began at the wrists.

Even with her swollen faced and a totaled body, she looked more at peace than she had for the last seven years that she'd been alive. The sad lines that had marked her forehead since Dad died were wiped away. This, more than anything, kept me from clawing my eyes out of their sockets.

I grabbed her left hand in my right and clutched it to my chest. With my other hand, I began to stroke her slightly warm cheek - too cold to be alive, but not cold enough for it to feel weird.

Behind me, I could hear Tom and Rachel Michelson entering the room. I turned to look at them with dry eyes and saw that both Tom and Rachel were crying. What was wrong with me? I felt sick to my stomach and completely alone, but I was no longer on the verge of tears. If my mom were here she would say that I was her little, hyper rational, emotionally detached daughter – she had, on more than one occasion, thrown that at me like an insult while she basked in booze and sadness. But, more often she would laugh at me for looking at everything objectively, as I was doing right now—with her death.

"Amergin," said a choked-up Tom, "I think we should leave now." He wouldn't look at my mother, and Rachel was fixated with the buttons on her jacket. "Amergin, please," said Tom, this time lacing his tone with authority.

"Honey, you must be freezing," pleaded Rachel, who had silent tears streaming down her cheek, still refused to look at anything but her jacket. I was wearing a pair of shorts, a tank, and an old pair of flip flops; but I felt nothing.

"Alright," I whispered. Not that staying in the morgue was bothering me, on the contrary I would not have minded staying the night here just to be with Mom just a little longer, but I decided that, for Tom's and Rachel's sake, I would go home.

"You can stay with us tonight, and Charlie will be flying in later today," Tom announced, sounding more like a lawyer, "and I believe Rayne, Charlotte, and Gavan are flying in, too." I nodded, and turned back to look at my mom. "We've already taken care of everything," voiced Tom.

"Thank you," is the only thing that I could think of to say. I mean, honestly, I didn't want any part in it. I just wanted to go home - not to the Michelson's - and think. "I'd like to stay at home, though," looking straight at Rachel when I said this. Finally, she looked up at me when she spoke.

"I understand. We'll drive you home."

"Thanks." I attempted a smile to show that I appreciated her understanding, but couldn't.

Leaning over, I kissed Mom's forehead and walked away without looking back, opened the doors out, and ran straight into Zoey Phisher - my mom's best friend. I knew then why I couldn't cry. Zoey was sobbing hard enough for several people. When she finally realized who I was, she sobbed harder and squeezed me as if her life depended on it.

"Oh God. Oh. God. " Zoey continued to sputter over and over into my shoulder. Not exactly sure of what to do, I began to rub soothing circles on her back to calm her down, something I believe my mom would do if she were in my situation. "I..." deep breath, "can't," another deep breath, "go in," one more deep breath, "there," she finished dramatically pointing at the doors that separated us from the dead.

"Zo, that's okay... you don't have to," I whispered into her shoulder length, black hair. "But, I understand if you need to." She shook her head vehemently at this.

"NO! I can't! I don't want to see her like _that_!" What? Dead? I wanted to scold her for being childish, but I decided that it would accomplish nothing. I recognized the irony of my own thoughts.

"Sweetie," called Rachel, "let's go."

"I'm going to go now, Zoey. Would you like to come with us?" She shook her head to decline the offer, but did not attempt to let go of me. Instead I steered her five foot five frame to a chair, and said "I'm going to call a cab for you, alright? We'll get your car later, okay?" She nodded, slumped over, and continued to sob for my mom.

Officer Ben Smith came over to where I stood and looked down at Zoey, who was moaning. "Is she alright?" he questioned.

"Yeah, I think so." I replied tiredly. "She and my mom have been best friends since college. They were like sisters." He nodded, understanding what the loss of my mother must be for the woman in Disney pajamas. Then he looked at me, a question in his eyes.

"But are you okay? Who's going to take care of you now?" I wanted to laugh, but that seemed inappropriate.

"Take care of... me? I have been taking care of myself for a very long time." The parent-child roles had been reversed between my mom and I for a very long time.

"Oh," he responded. I looked down at Zoey again, then turned to see Tom and Rachel standing at the morgue's door.

"I need to leave. Thank you for all of your help." Giving the officer a quick hug and a sad, tight smile, I went out the door and into fresh air.


	3. Chapter 3

I wasn't staring out the window, but instead at the girl _in _the window. Long, dirty blonde hair and tan skin turned a sickly pale glowing in the half-light of the early hours of the morning. Normally – I'm quintessentially Californian, but at this moment the girl in the window could be mistaken for a ghost, or even a vampire from some of the books I've been known to read. The reflected me had pain-filled, green eyes with dark smudges underneath from tiredness and day-old makeup. Her shoulders were hunched over – not from the cold, but from emotional burden. Other people had said I was pretty, but I honestly couldn't see it, especially not now in the ghastly reflection-shadow.

The girl was shocking to look at. Too ill, too sad. She wore a pain on her face that I did not want to feel. I looked past my reflection and noticed that we were almost to the house. _Finally_, I sighed. I just needed to be alone.

"Sweetie," called Rachel from the front passenger seat, "would you like Tom and me to come in with you, or we could even stay over?" I knew she only offered to be polite.

"No, that's okay Rachel. Thank you, though."

"All right, honey. But call us if you need anything."

"Thanks." I wasn't going to call them, not even if the house was on fire. I pushed the door to their silver sedan open, slowly got out, and then closed it behind me. With a quick wave goodbye, I turned to walk to the door.

My home – a two story California bungalow, close enough that the ocean can be seen from the front windows – looked exactly as I felt, _empty_. The police cruisers and ambulance had long since disappeared. A cool breeze picked up. It felt inviting against my now fevered skin. My physical numbness was starting to thaw, but the emotional numbness was not going to leave, I wouldn't allow it.

The house was too quiet. I went straight into the family room and browsed through all of our old Cd's. At first I put in my favorite go to Cd: ABBA. Mama Mia! started to play and I quickly pulled the Cd out. Next I tried some rock, with words that could be easily tuned out. Pacing around the room, I then pulled that Cd out, too, and in its place I popped in my own mixer – a depressing set of classical music. Slowly the London Philharmonic filled the house's surround sound.

Aimlessly I walked around, staring at the front of the house and working my way through. First, the family room, with its light sea foam green walls and white fireplace, both covered in pictures, framed in black, of happier (or seemingly happier) times. The couch, normally welcoming, looked anything but, so I continued to the dining room. Painted a burnt orange, it had a dark wooden table decorated with black and white place mats and a centerpiece of orange, red, and fuchsia flowers. But I continued to the kitchen, still not finding what I was looking for. White cabinets, gray cement counters, and a green tiled back splash greeted me. I have countless memories of Mom in here; we had cooked together all of the time. The clock read four. And the cork board over the table - with it's mix-matched chairs - boasted pictures, messages, and some of our favorite quotes. I went over to the wall and read the last message Mom had left.

_Amergin, my most beautiful baby girl. See you. I love you so much. Always. Mom_

My hands shook as I pulled the note from the wall and clutched the unfulfilled promise to my heart. She had called me to tell me that she was going to a party, but it was a tradition, of sorts, to leave a message on the board. The tone of her note made it clear that there was premeditation for her night—not quite like some of the other attempts. I couldn't stay in the kitchen any longer. Next, I wandered into the guest room, painted the perfect sky blue; but it held nothing that really reminded me of my mother. The laundry room did not have I was looking for - and what that is exactly, I'm not sure. I refused, on principle, to enter the guest bathroom.

Slowly, as I made my way upstairs, I looked at all of the pictures that lined each of the walls. Each held a different memory, generally happy—some sad. All not quite what I needed. I felt so empty on the inside. What I really wanted and needed was mom. Unconsciously, my feet carried me to her room.

Her door was open halfway; I didn't even need to twist the old fashioned black knob for it to open, but I held on. Leaning on the frame for support, I just stared blankly into Mom's room. The room was painted a cozy off-white, and her bedspread white with a throw of different, rich shades of purple. She loved the color purple, though I had never been fond of it. The bed was messy, like it was made quickly - and knowing Mom, it probably was. And like the rest of our house, pictures covered most of the wall space in the master bedroom: of my dad and me, of Zoey, of Rayne and Maggie and Gavan, of Charlie and Bella, of Tom and Rachel, of other friends and family, of places she'd been or things she'd done—we'd done together. The heather grey curtains were drawn over the French doors leading out to the deck, but the doors going into the bathroom and closet were open.

First, I went to the doors that led outside and opened them; letting the fading moonlight and the cool ocean breeze in. The song had changed; I could hear the beginning notes of a piano play softly from downstairs. Walking around Mom's room, I touched all of the pictures, all of the memories she had deemed important enough to line her walls, to watch her sleep.

Then I walked into the bathroom. Her make-up was still out from before she left for the party, her hamper still full - even after I had called her earlier to remind her to put it into the laundry room for tomorrow. The power button still flashed on the speakers she had obviously forgotten to turn it off. A pink towel lay on the ground near the closet. I made a weak attempt to smile at her forgetfulness. Looking into the closet, my emotional armor began to crack as tears streamed down my face and small, hiccupping chuckles filled the room. Her closet was a disaster. Mom would call it organized chaos, I would call her the "Queen of Anarchy." All of the clothes she had tried on lay in little mounds on the already clothes strewn floor. Where she had thought to put something back on a hanger or shelf, it was haphazardly done. Shoes peeked out at random intervals around the closet.

My shaking knees finally collapsed and I landed with a plop within the closet. Downstairs, another song began to play, and with it the pain poured in—the pain I so desperately was trying to sweep under the rug was suffocating me. But, now, I just let it consume me as I gasped for air and grasped various garments of clothing and hugged them - just smelling my mom. A phone rang somewhere, but I ignored it.

The next thing I realized was that the music had stopped playing. And just for a second, I forgot where I had fallen asleep and why music had been playing. Then all of the images that I wish I could forget flashed before me. Two voices could be heard coming from somewhere nearby.

A man said, "What should we do? Do we just leave her in there?" Ahhh... that must be Charlie. So the girl must be -

"I'll go check on her again." Bella replied in a tired voice. Seconds later, Bella arrived in the doorway of the closet. Looking down at me, she gave me a small smile. I must have looked like a mentally unstable wreck. "Hey," she said quietly.

"Hello," I mouthed, but nothing came out. It only made my throat ache. Great. I had lost my voice from crying.

"Do you know what time it is?" I shook my head to signal no, not wanting to cause anymore pain than absolutely necessary. "It's about 11:30 in the morning." Oh. I was pretty sure I looked shocked, because Bella gave me another sad smile. "Yep. Rayne called. He, Charlotte, and Gavan will be in around 12." I tried to somehow respond to that, but I couldn't, I jus continued to lied on the floor among the clothes. Then Charlie walked in.

"Hey kiddo. How you feeling?" Both Bella and I glared at him. What kind of question was that? How did he really expect me to feel? I could tell that Bella was thinking along the same lines. "Oh. Right." Charlie blushed, looking slightly abashed. "Well, here," he offered his hand to help me off the floor. I made an attempt to grab it, but my arms felt like led and barely moved. "Hmmm..." he sighed, bending over to pull me to my feet. "Alright, Am. I'll be downstairs," he reassured me once I found my land legs.

"Amergin," Bella started, "how about a shower?" This time, I was able to give her a very weak smile and she nodded in approval. "Okay. Can you walk to you bathroom, or do you need help?" This time I gave a hoarse laugh. I'm around five foot seven and athletically built; Bella's barely five foot three and could disappear if she turns sideways.

"Yeah, you'd be a help," I croaked out.

"Hey," she hit my arm in an almost playful gesture, "I make Super Man look weak." And at that we both started to chuckle - but for different reasons. She may have laughed at her joke, but I was near hysterics at how almost _normal_ our conversation was starting to sound.

When I got out of my mother's room and into my own bathroom I let out a groan, while Bella began chuckled slightly at my reaction.

"I'm..." I cleared my throat, "I'm a mess." My very long, dirty blonde hair stuck out at odd angles in various sized knots. My skin had turned a gross pinkish-pale color from all of my crying. My eyes were puffy, and very, very red. My tank and cotton shorts were completely wrinkled, generally disheveled, and still covered in blood. I looked vaguely like what I thought a tornado survivor should look like. "Get out..." I sighed. Resigned to the fact that I did indeed need a shower, desperately.

Turning on the shower, I undressed, and stepped in after a few minutes of letting the water get steaming hot. I just let the hot water slide down my body. Unlike the night before, I now felt the cold fingers of my mother's death gripping my body.

After the shower, I pulled on a pair of sweats and a UCLA sweatshirt; then I slowly made my way downstairs. There was a knock at the door, just as I reached the bottom.

"I've got it," I tried to call out, but couldn't manage more than a conversational decibel level. Walking slowly, I looked out the window, then I nearly ran to get the door open. Once it was open, Gavan, Charlotte, and Rayne simultaneously sighed:

"AMERGIN!" and then they rushed to envelope me in a giant 4-person bear hug. After the group hug was over, I went over to Rayne and hugged him again. Rayne was not only my bestfriend, he was the brother I never had.

"Am. I'm so sorry. And I'm sorry we couldn't get here sooner," he said sadly and in his Irish lilt, still embracing me tightly.

"Not your fault." I replied for both of his apologies. "I'm glad you're here now." Everything would be better now that Rayne, Charlotte, and Gavan were here.

"How're ya holdin' up, dear?" asked Charlotte, I could always depend on her to be motherly when I so obviously needed one. Her typically happy, round face and rosy cheeks looking pale and tired.

"I've been better," I replied wearily. Banging noises could be heard coming from the kitchen. "I should go help Charlie," I said, sighing and wondering where Bella could be.

"Don't ya worry about a thing. I'll take care of it all," Maggie told me.

"You don't have to do that, Char..." I said, in a weak attempt to stop her, but internally grateful.

"Rayne, take her over to the couch. Gavan, can ye bring in the suitcases." As Rayne steered me to the couch, Gavan went back to the rental car to grab the suitcases.

"Thank you." I told everyone and no one. Curling up in Rayne's arms, I fell asleep with a tear running down my cheek. The images reeling in a loop in my head like so many real-life nightmares.


	4. Chapter 4

I sat completely still, just staring at the ceiling.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Rayne checking in on me – again. Then I could here his feet and Bella asking, "How is she?" – again.

And Rayne responding, "The same," – again. I had lost track of how many times Bella or Rayne had come in to check on me since I had woken up. They would switch off; one would come out of the kitchen and stare at me for a minute or so, and then go back and report to the other. I couldn't pretend that I didn't hear them anymore or that it had begun to get on my nerves.

I decided to end their cycle and get up. Taking deep breaths, I swung my legs off the couch and then looked out the window to the overcast sky and a dreary ocean view. I didn't want to be responsible for a pathetic fallacy… but it was clear that the sky understood how I felt—no matter that it was January on the coast.

I had done a lot of thinking while staring at the ceiling, which might have been the reason for my broody mood. I realized that thoughts of my mom hurt way too much – so I was not going to think of her at all. Along with censoring my thoughts, I thought about the near future. What exactly did Tom mean by _arrangements,_ anyway? Did that mean a funeral? Would I be able to continue living here, alone? Would I want to? Where could Lauren and Bridget be? And, What am I going to do about Jason?

I'd made a decision in regards to the last question I had been asking myself for hours. For both of us, I think it would be better that I ended it - now. I don't want anyone's pity or sympathy, especially not Jason's. And he's such a nice person; I don't think he deserves someone who couldn't feel anything-who refused to feel anything. With that I quickly stood up, and almost passed out. The edges of my vision constricted

Walking into the kitchen, Rayne and Bella sat at the little, round table talking in hushed tones. They turned to look at me, but I just kept my head down, letting my hair swing in front of my face to shield me, to avoid them. Instead of going to talk to them, which I did not feel like doing, I went to the stove and grabbed the teakettle. I couldn't remember the last time I had anything to drink, but I was surprisingly thirsty. Because I didn't approach them to talk, Bella and Rayne didn't say anything to me; they just continued to talk to each other. Though, being the total klutz that I was, I dropped the kettle in the sink - calling attention to my presence in the room anyway.

"Good job," said Rayne with a small smile on his face and in his Irish lilt. Rayne - my best friend - has the most beautiful green eyes and sort of long, messy, chocolaty brown hair with fair skin and freckles. And he's _so_ tall, I think he has grown since the last time I saw him over the summer. So many people assumed that we were siblings and we rarely corrected them.

"Thanks. I thought the atmosphere was a little too serious in here." I retorted in a rusty voice, trying to make light of the situation – trying to make everything feel normal.

"I think it's a family trait," said Bella, with a hint of a smile. It was our inside joke, of sorts. We are both amazingly accident-proned. Accident-proned being the only physical thing we really had in common. "What me to make something for you to eat?"

"Must be." I agreed as I set the kettle onto the stovetop, "I'm not hungry," and made for the table. "So..."

"So," repeated Rayne, "we were just talking about colleges. I'm thinkin' about going to Trinity - as ya know - and Bella is thinkin'... was it Arizona State or...?"

"Or U of A." Finished Bella. Bella and I both just looked at each other, because we both had already talked about this. Despite the fact that we lived in different states, Bella and I were really great friends. They paused to let me fill in what I thought my future would hold, now. But I didn't say anything and the silence just hung in the air for a few minutes.

"Am," Bella said breaking the silence finally, "your phone has been ringing off the hook and several people have persistently knocked on the door."

"Oh. Really?" I asked. I had heard the doorbell and the phone, but I just hadn't wanted to pretend to anyone that I was okay, yet.

"Your friends have threatened to knock down the door if ya don't come out. And _Jason_ keeps calling." Rayne told me. He stressed Jason's name and rolled his eyes as he said it.

Rayne had never seemed to like Jason, but I guess it didn't matter now that I had decided that I was going to break up with him. Even though he was a great guy. Just his name pushed me into a spiral of thoughts about Jason. I knew I would be able to handle such a small loss after such a big one, but it didn't mean that I was immune to reminiscing. He remembered all of the things a good boyfriend should and he was captain of the soccer team at school. Not to mention he was good looking. Jason had the whole "beach" thing going for him, with sun streaked, light brown-blonde hair, tanned skin, and golden brown eyes. He surfed early in the morning and played beach volleyball. Plus we loved all of the same things. We both loved soccer; I could replay our date to the LA Galaxy game—every detail a part of me. We surfed together in the mornings, sunrise was when we bonded before we started to date—I could see each of his freckles in the half-light. We were both beach bums and would run together at night. We liked to study together, or he studied an I helped. We watched movies together and we were friends with all of the same people. We were pretty much destined to be together, at least according to my two best friends, Maddie and Bridget.

Maddie and Bridget. I probably _should_ call them before they _actually_ knock down the door - which I'm pretty sure they would do. They are my _other _bestfriends. Well, I shouldn't say other, just local. Plus they're my girlfriends. But our friendship is different than the one I have with Rayne. I tell Maddie and Bridget everything and we do everything together, and we've been like that since the sixth grade. But we are each so different and so unique. Rayne, on the other hand, I have known since birth. We practically read the other's mind and he just understands me.

"Earth to Amergin," said Rayne. "Ya just spaced there." Whoops. "Anyway," continued Rayne. "I was tryin' ta tell ya that Maddie and Bridget both called earlier and that they're goin' to come over at five, ta see how ya're doin'." He stared at me. I could see in his eyes that he was wondering the same thing. So was I. How was I feeling? Rayne didn't let me think about it, he wanted an answer, "And how are ya feelin'?" I let out all of the air that I still had left in my lungs and then took a deep breath before trying to answer.

"Good question." I gave up thinking of the right way to describe myself.

"What do you mean?" asked Bella, tilting her head to the right a little bit and staring at me through her big, brown eyes.

"I'm not quite sure what I feel." And that was completely honest—and a fair response. I didn't know what I was feeling. There were so many emotions that I couldn't explain, too many that were just raging inside me. But I'd separated myself from them. It was almost as if I was looking at the heartache from somewhere else. Compartmentalizing was something my... something I had learned a long time ago.

"That's understandable," added Bella, both her and Rayne nodding. But she didn't understand. Rayne didn't either, as much as I trusted implicitly that he was there for me. Rayne and Bella have both of their parents.

The teakettle began to whistle, but I ignored it.

"Yeah." I was getting irritated with their pity. I loved them, yeah, but they had no idea as to how I felt. "I'm going to go for a run." The pot continued to whistle.

"Amergin, I don't think that's such a good idea. It's raining." Bella told me.

"Ya can't run from your problems, Am. I know that's what ya're doing, because ya always do that. But ya shouldn't." Which is true. I do run from my problems. Literally and figuratively. But when I run, everything just made more sense. It was just one of those things that I _need_ to do. A feeling that I couldn't ignore. And it was liberating to not always have the minutia clogging my brain constantly.

"Thanks for that Rayne." I said sarcastically. "I like to run in the rain. And I think I've explained what running does for me." I looked directly at Rayne as I finished my sentence. I could see that he knew that I needed this, but that he still didn't want me to go.

"Ya better change if ya're going out." He looked resigned as he said it. "And eat somethin' for Chrissake. You'll pass out, fer sure, if you keep this up. You canna do this to yerself."

"Thanks for looking out for me." I gave him a weak smile and a quick hug, he shrugged and looked like he wanted to argue the point with me more, but I went into the fridge to grab an apple and then filled a glass of water.

I walked out of the kitchen and headed up the stairs to my room with my snack in hand - ignoring the pictures as I passed this time. I didn't need to replay my life.

My room. Everything was as neat as I left it. Everything was exactly the same. My grey-green walls looked the same. My cream curtains were the same. My black bookshelves. My bed. My desk. My chair. But I could see that my mom had come in here. My closet door was open, and my normally extremely tidy shelves had clothing sticking out at random places. This definitely went against my no thinking policy, plus almost all of the pictures that covered my walls somehow reminded me of her_. I could see her clearly, sitting on my window seat, looking out at the waves. She turned to me, her curly hair short in this memory and her face tan. _This must have been a memory of last summer. When she just had to redo the dining room and wardrobe_. She was dressed in a floral tunic and boyfriend jeans—mine. I could hear myself telling her that I didn't have time for her emotional bullshit; that I needed to do something or other and that I would do some therapeutic shopping with her later. _Her smile and laughter haunted this memory, as well as my callousness.

I ripped off her sweats and sweatshirt, leaving them in a pile on the floor as homage to their owner. The more violently I acted, the less I would be reminded of whose clothing I was wearing. Pulling on in their place a pair of shorts, a thermal, and a fleece. I grabbed a pair of socks and my running shoes and headed for my door and into the bathroom to pull my hair into a ponytail. Trying to ignore the memories of buying my running shoes with my mom or the fact that the fleece I had grabbed had been hers for a brief period of time when she dated some outdoorsy, bearded backpacking hipster.

I just need to get out of this house.

Sprinting down the stairs, I collided with Rayne and Bella as I reached the bottom.

"Oof!" We all said in tandem.

"Slow down!" cried Bella.

And, at the same time, Rayne let out: "Where's the fire?!"

I ignored them and went to the door, pulled it open, and started to run as fast and as far away from the house as I could. My thoughts slowed down as I pounded the pavement, down the familiar path that led to a spot overlooking the water.

My vision was blurred, but not from tears. Instead, rain drops impaired my vision. But the water felt nice. It was wet and cold against my feverish skin, weighing my clothes down as it soaked in. The weight helped, it made me feel real. Since I learned of Mom's death, I had been feeling a lot like a balloon. Like I was just going to float away at any moment. I started to laugh at my own silliness. I could hear the hysteria tainting the sound of it.

Looking up, I realized that I was going in the direction of Jason's house. Well that was good. I needed to break up with him anyway. But how was I going to do it? I mulled over a few options.

_Jason, I know I'm a mess right now but I just wanted to pop by and say that I can't be your girlfriend anymore._

_Hey. How're you? I just wanted to tell you that my mom died and I don't feel human right now, so we shouldn't go out._

_Oh, yeah, I was on a run - yes in the rain - and decided to break up with you. Why now? Well, my mother died and..._

Oh no. I felt the air rush past my face, as the ground loomed ever closer. I quickly stuck my hands out to break my fall; I had been going to fast to not pay attention, this had been inevitable. So I closed my eyes already knowing that this would hurt.

After the pain, I inspected the damage; both hands and knees were skinned and oozing blood. I had to sit down on the gutter, trying to let my head clear and not to breathe out of my nose. All I could see was Mom lying in a pool of her own blood looming in front of me. The smell of my own blood a mere shadow of the bathroom I had walked in the other night. The blood on my hands and knees reminding me of my futile attempts to revive her lifeless body, the bruised and bloody handprints I left on her body in the morgue filled my mind's eye.

"Ugh." I let out, disgusted and depressed. My knees and hands hurt. I was emotionally drained but my nerves felt like hot wires. I felt like I was falling and floating at the same time. The world was perfectly clear - but everything made absolutely no sense.

If only I could explain that to Jason. I'm pretty sure he would dump me; I sounded crazy - even to myself.

It was still raining, so I let the fresh rainwater clean my wounds and wash away the warm blood. I took a deep breath, leaning away from the metallic smell of blood, and got up. It only took me another couple of minutes of jogging to reach Jason's house. Fortunately Jason was just getting out of his truck as I stepped onto the sidewalk.

"Jason!" I called out to him in a voice rusty from disuse.

"Amy? What are you doing?"

"I was going for a run -"

"In the rain?"

"Yep. I was running and... well... the thing is," I took a deep breath and tried to organize my thoughts.

"Yeah?"

"The thing is, you're a great person... you're greater than great, really. I have been so lucky to have you... but right now... I just need to be by myself." Okay, that wasn't so bad - but I felt even worse than before. I watched his face fall as he processed what I had said.

"What do you mean? Did I do something?"

"I mean that we shouldn't go out anymore," I'm sorry Jason. "You didn't do anything... Please... please don't think that... This is about me... I just need to un-complicate my life," he looked confused, "complicated... wasn't the right word... but in a way it is... I just don't want you to get caught up in my mess. Look at me, I am a mess. I've been a mess for a long time, but it's just going to get worse," I took a few more deep breaths. "I'm sorry... for everything." He looked so hurt. I hurt him. I tried to stay behind my barrier. I would not let this expose me to more pain.

"I'm sure we can work something out. I... you... you mean a lot to me, Am." My resolve was almost crushed. I hated myself for hurting him. He deserved so much better. He was my first love, I was his first love. We shared so much for what felt like nearly forever to any sixteen year old.

"You mean a lot to me, too... But we can't work anything out... remember... this has _nothing_ to do with you..." I wanted to beg for his forgiveness, but I could barely make the words come out, let alone put emotion behind them. I wanted, but couldn't tell him why, exactly, I was hurting him so much. I had felt so much emotion in one night and had thought through all of this already - accepted letting him go. Poor Jason. He had no idea as to why I was doing this to him. "Bye, Jason."

As I turned to leave, I looked at him. He stood completely still, and wore a pained and shocked expression. "Oh God... Jason... please don't." I went up to him and hugged him, still unable to let go of my placid mask. He slowly relaxed, but when I looked at his face it still wore a pained, shocked, and - now - confused expression. "We knew this would come anyway... You're going to college in a few months and I'm just a Junior... You'll be just fine without me." Trust me Jason, you're life will be much better without me. I felt exhausted - I was already emotionally drained, but now I was physically tired, too. I cupped Jason's sweet, pained face in my hands looked straight into his eyes and whispered, "I'm sorry... for doing this... to you... I'm sorry." The world started to blacken at the edges and I was beginning to feel cold. The rain did not feel as good as it did before. "Good bye."

I kissed him lightly one last time, and then I turned and walked away.

"Bye, Amergin" Jason said, finally coming out of shock from my spur-of-the-moment break up. I didn't look back at him, but continued to walk down the street - heading for the beach. Once I was far enough, and the lightheadedness I had felt decreased, I began to run; not stopping until I felt the crunch of sand under my feet. And then I just crumpled to the ground, for the second time that day.

The sun was nearly set, but I felt no need to head back home - it did not even feel very welcoming right now, everything still was too fresh. But I got up and walked back anyway.

All of the lights were on at the house, and I could see people through the windows. What was going on?

I walked into my home. At first no one noticed me, but steadily more people turned in my direction. Everyone was wearing black and on the TV screen a slide show of Mom played.

Oh.

My head was spinning - again. People began to approach me with pity and tears in their eyes, Maddie and Bridget turned to me; but before anyone could reach me I ran up to my room. First, though, I decided to take a shower. I had no intention of going back downstairs. No way.

After my shower, I changed into a pair of pajama shorts and a t-shirt. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. I paced my room until I grew tired. Then I sat down, but I couldn't stay seated for too long. Again, I paced then sat and turned on music, then rummage through different things. I felt caged. Finally, I settled back into pacing.

"AH!" I screamed into a pillow to lessen the frustrated feelings. I nearly sprinted out of my room, out of my skin, but restrained myself. I slowly opened the door.

Mom's door was closed, but I felt compelled to go in. I twisted the old fashioned black knob and opened the door. I was very quiet going in, like I was entering church. I remember when I went to Church, _dad hand holds mine as he lights a candle at Mary's feet. We then kneel quietly together. He prays, and I close my eyes and count how many candles._

It was cold in her room, I had forgotten to close the doors going out, so the rain and icy breeze had dropped the room's temperature. I rushed over to close the doors and went into the bathroom to grab a towel to clean up the water that had gotten in. As I passed my mom's closet, I could smell her. After mopping up the water, I pulled on one of her favorite sweaters. It was her favorite off-white sweater that she wore when she got up the morning everything changed, there was a large tea stain near the sleeve. She would never wear actual robes. She claimed they were for old people. And she was never old, no matter what her age was.

I went back into my room and grabbed my favorite stuffed animal - a very old, faded stuffed puppy named Patrick - appropriately nicknamed Patch - from Dad. He had been my father's. Once I had grabbed Patch, I headed back to Mom's room and crawled into her soft bed and quickly fell asleep.

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Once awake again, I walked downstairs in my pajamas and Mom's sweater. At the table Charlie and Bella were already up and silently eating breakfast together. Like the day before, I decided to ignore everyone else in the room and instead made tea.

Once I filled up my cup, I went up to the stairs again - this time to my own room. Today everything wasn't as painful as the day before, instead of wallowing in the pain and crying in grief I had been numbing myself to it, like I always did when I'm upset. This just took me a little while to get over the shock.

Before I realized it, I was outside of my room. Opening the door I could tell that something was different. Maybe Bella had slept in here. That was probably it; the bed was a little messier than it was before. Oh. And there was a bag on my window seat. Yes, she was in here.

Going over to my desk to turn my computer on, I found an envelope with my name on it on top of the laptop. It was in Mom's handwriting, reminding me of the unopened letter in my purse.

_Amergin,_

_I realize that if your reading this right now something terrible has happened to me; but I don't want you to be upset. Everything will work itself out. It always does. And this is for the best. You know it as well as I do. _

_Because of your father's death, I've done a lot of thinking - especially about my own death. You know that. You also know that you are my world, girlie, and I don't want anything to happen to you - especially when I'm not there to take care of you. Even though you take care of me most of the time. I know that you are my little grown up, but you need to be a kid once and a while, too. That's when I was able to take care of you most of all. I want you to go with your Uncle Charlie. Please. I know how much you don't like Forks, but I think that you'll find something there for you. It's for the best. If you have anything to say about it, you will never read this note - but we both have learned that anything is possible and you can't always be there. And that's a good thing. You are an amazing, special, talented, intelligent, beautiful, strong, independent, determined young woman. But you cannot save the world, and you couldn't save me. You were never responsible for that. I was never your job. _

_Remember that I love you always, my love._

_Mom_

I could see where teardrops - teardrops my mother had cried - had stained the paper and smudged the ink. But I was not going to cry for this.

Everything felt like it was happening to someone else. It was like an out-of-body experience. The fortress against the pain that I had built was not going to crumble at this letter's hand. I would not allow it. But I could still _feel _the emotions that I would not succumb to; like they were fighting to get in and cause me pain.

_Forks?_ I refuse to move to Forks. I won't. No one could make me. I went to my bag, and found the letter that I had hidden there. Her writing was a mess, her thoughts less lucid. I knew she had been drunk, but the paper had been soaked in tequila making the whole note difficult to read.

_Amergin,_

_You've always convinced me to step away from the ledge, but tonight you weren't back when I thought you would be. This isn't your fault. It's time. Tom has all the details. He didn't believe that this would ever happen. But I knew it was only a matter of time. When you go over the years, as I know you can and will, you'll see all of the signs. I was always leading up to this. You knew that, but chose to fight it. And I think we just gave up fighting each other. You didn't come back when you said you would because you were tired of me. I am tired of me. But don't blame yourself. You're not responsible for me. Just get through this like you get through everything else. You're so strong. I wish I had your strength and willpower. And you're so smart; you'll go somewhere and be something great. Remember that I love you so much and that I am not blaming you for any of this. I had been thinking about this since I spilled the tea and thought of your father. _

_Love you always. _

This. This note brought me to my knees. My mother's drunk accusations that I was the reason for her death. She had spilled tea that morning. How that made her think of my father and her own death was not within my grasp at the moment. But it killed me.

There was a knock at the door. What _else_ could it be?

"Amergin," Charlie called through the door, "can I come in?"

At first I nodded, but then realized that he could not see me. And that was a good thing. "I don't think so." But he opened the door anyway.

"Hey. How are you feeling, kiddo?" I just looked at him, not able to answer. "Right." Charlie began to run his fingers through his air in a nervous manner. "I see you got your mom's letter," he started, "…wait. What's wrong? What did she write?"

All I could do was hand him both letters and shake my head. First he read the letter that Tom had left for me, he didn't seem that shocked—assuming that he got one similarly worded. Then he started to read the other note she had written the other night.

"Amergin… no… I…" Charlie was speechless. Not quite a surprise, given that he was quiet when things weren't horrifying.

"Yeah…" I could just manage the whisper.

"Um… Am, you know that all of this wasn't your fault. You know that your mother had been fighting this for a long time. You just sort of postponed what she inevitably wanted." He tried so hard to find the right words to comfort me.

"Charlie, we read the same letter." I was starting to find my voice. "You and I both could see that she held me responsible for her mental wellbeing. If I had been here when I had said I would be, we wouldn't need to have this conversation. She says that so clearly. I am the one who let her down. She didn't let me down, because I knew this was how she felt." The words tumbled out of my mouth. I was angry. My _mother_ had no right to blame me for not being here. "How in god's name was I supposed to know that she was going to do this, again? How many times did I have to be here to hold her hand? How many years did she need? Why couldn't she get over it? I got over it. Dad's death was a shock, but we had a year to prepare ourselves for it.

"What the hell was I supposed to do? Were we supposed to make this house into _Grey Gardens? _Should I have stopped caring about my own sanity so I could be with her always-to humor her and keep her away from the edge, sharp objects, alcohol, pills?" I knew that my anger was misplaced. That I shouldn't yell at Charlie while sitting on the floor. I shouldn't have this tantrum, and yet I couldn't stop myself, "Charlie, goddamnit. Why did she do this to me? She knows that I will see her… _forever._ I will never be able to get the image of her body out of my head. I will always see pools of blood in that bathroom. It's hard enough seeing the ghost of my father, but now hers, too? Why? Why did she expect me to always be aware of her feelings, but neglect to care about mine? How could she be so selfish? Just because she claims that she needed me, did that mean that I didn't need her? HOW COULD SHE BE SO SELFISH even in dying?!" The hysteria in my voice, the yelling, I knew I needed to calm down so as not to draw more people upstairs. I wasn't crying. I was angry. So angry. But it wasn't fair of me. And I knew that. I took deep breaths, knowing that Charlie was watching me carefully. "I am sorry. I apologize for my outburst," I stood up and looked into Charlie's brown eyes, "I needed to let that out, but it won't happen again." He looked at me as if I was a wounded bear.

"I got one from Margaret, too," he ignored the tantrum. I was thankful.

"Oh."

"I agree with her."

"Agree about what?" my tone was harsh.

"About you moving to Forks with me and Bella -" he should have said _Bella and me_, but whatever. "I don't want you to be alone and both you and Bella will be going to college soon. You'll just have to share a room for a while."

"Uncle Chuck," he winced. He absolutely hated when anyone called him Chuck. I couldn't bring myself to care. "I won't be alone, all of my friends are here. And, if it makes you feel better I can get a pet. I've missed having a dog. And like you said I will be going to college soon, so I won't be home alone for very long." I was begging. I didn't want Charlie to know how badly that the letter had affected me, the yelling didn't even cover the half of it.

"I have already talked to Tom Michelson," _thanks Mr. Lawyer_, "we've already worked everything out, you _are_ coming to Forks." he sounded hurt and irritated. Then his tone softened, "I would really like to have my favorite niece come to live with me. We all lost someone, Am."

"Okay, I guess. And you're lucky you only have one niece, Charlie." I said in a voice that sounded flat, and I could even hear the defeated tone I was trying to mask. Could he? But Charlie's red eyes glowed and his smile widened.

"Tom has already arranged for someone to rent out this house, so that if you decide to, you can come back. He says that you know what to do to get the house ready for renters?"

"Yeah," I told Charlie. Mom and I had rented out the house during the summer and sometimes during the winter when we went on vacation.

"Alright. Well Charlotte, Gavin, and Rayne will leave tomorrow. They've been in the guest house. But Bella and I will be here until Friday to help you get ready." What he really meant was that they were going to watch me. "Do you want to fly to with us to Washington, or -"

"I'll drive. It'll be easier to bring my stuff if I drive." Which is true, mostly. I had a trailer to pull some of the stuff that Mom had gotten Charlie - we had been collecting different pieces of furniture, paint, and everything to re-decorate his house over the summer. Renee had remarried, but Charlie was still is stuck back in the "good old days." Plus, I really just wanted some time to think. An eighteen-hour drive should have been plenty of time.

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When it came time to say goodbye to Charlotte, Gavin, and Rayne on Thursday I started to get better at playing normal.

"Alright, honey, we're going to miss ya!" Charlotte said through tears while she hugged me. She always cries during good byes. "Things'll get easier. I know it."

"Take care of yourself, lass," Gavin said into the top of my hair.

"Ya know how to reach me, and if ya need me I'll be here in no time." Rayne told me as he cupped my face in his hands. Then he pulled me into a tight hug.

"Bye." I said, waving goodbye along side Bella as the three of them walked into the airport. .

On Friday I repeated the whole ordeal, but this time I had to say goodbye to Bella and Charlie.

"We'll see you in a few days." Bella said, giving me a quick squeeze.

"Are you leaving tomorrow?" Charlie asked.

"No. I think I'm going to leave early Sunday morning" I replied.

"Okay. Well." Charlie stammered. He had never been very good at displaying any sort of emotion. "See you soon, kid," Charlie said at last, embracing me for a short second and then pulling his bag off the ground. I waved goodbye while they walked into the airport, then hopped back into my car.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of packing. I had finally crashed on the couch in exhaustion in one of my mom's sweatshirts, falling asleep quickly with her comforting smell wrapped around me.

When I woke up, it was still dark outside. My back had become stiff over night from sleeping on the couch and I felt cold. I already had my bags downstairs, so I grabbed a pair of socks and my running shoes.

Once outside, all my thoughts muted to a dull background noise. It was just me and the path ahead of me. If only life could be as simple as running. I did not really have a place in mind when I started, but I decided that an appropriate farewell to my beloved Santa Barbara would be to go to my favorite place in the world.

On a normal day, it will take me a good thirty minutes to reach my beach; but today it took me just over twenty minutes to reach the spot. Then I climbed down the cliffs, a forty-foot drop, to the bottom. There, at the bottom of the cliffs, there was a little beach. It is always completely deserted and it's completely my own. I have never told anyone that I went here to think- not my mother or my best friends. As the sun climbed higher into the sky, I just sat staring at nothing.

At home, yet another message flashed on my phone's screen.

"Hey Amergin, it's Lauren. I just wanted to see if you wanted to meet up with the team at the usual spot to play a farewell scrimmage. Let me know."

I called Lauren back before changing out of my pajamas and into a pair of running shorts and t-shirt.

Our usual spot is one of the more popular beaches. Today though, some of the girls on my soccer team had already set it up as a field and some of the boys from the guys' team were there too. I sat down and just watched as everyone else laughed and played with each other. My eyes were closed, head resting on my knees as someone sat down next to me.

"Hey," said Jason, startling me with the sound of his voice.

"Oh. Hi."

"Why didn't you tell me about your mom?" Jason asked. I just shrugged. "I'm sorry." I shrugged again, not looking at him.

"Am! You're here! Let's get this game started!" called out Lisa. They were all acting so normal.

"Okay." I yelled back.

"Boys versus girls?" asked Robert.

"You're so on," taunted Janet. I had to smile at this. No matter what happens, life still goes on. I needed this.

By the end of the game, the girls were up four to three.

While everyone drank water, Lauren said sadly, "I can't believe your leaving, the team just won't be the same without you!"

"I'll miss you all like crazy." My voice was a little distant, but I really meant it. My team had become a part of me, a surrogate family.

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Sunday came faster than I expected. Bridget, Maddie and I all stood in my front yard just looking at each other.

"What are you gonna do with the little car?" asked Bridget, dark red hair whipping around her face in the breeze and tears staining her cheeks. She's always loved my mom's black BMW Z4.

"Shut up, Bridge. We're going to miss you, A!" hiccuped a crying Maddie, her dark skin tinged pink from all of the crying, eyes red with sadness.

"I'm going to miss you, too, Madds." I told her as we hugged each other. I didn't want to let go of her. She was little, but fierce.

"What about me?" cried Bridget.

"You too, B." Maddie and I said together. Even though both Bridget and Maddie were crying, I hadn't cried yet. I didn't want to let any emotion touch me, and I knew that if I cried it would only make it harder for Bridget and Maddie.

"Well I better go, it's almost seven thirty."

"Alright." Maddie said, still not letting go.

"Call us like every ten minutes!" Bridget said seriously. I smiled at her.

"Of course I will."

"And tell us how awful it is." Maddie made me promise, she knew how much I didn't care for Forks.

"Or if there are any cute boys!" laughed Bridget, trying to lighten the mood.

"Okay. Love you both. Seriously. See you over the summer."

"Sooner! No matter what!" said both Maddie and Bridget.

As I closed the door to my jeep and waved goodbye, I pulled the car away from the curb and headed north - to Forks.

_****Author's Note: Let me know what you think. I've changed the story. I felt like the my characters were a little inconsistent in the first version. I've fixed some of that. _


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:**

_Thank you to those who reviewed, you are my literary muses!_

_Amergin is Gaelic and it means "born of song" (Gaelic is a dead language - but it originated in Scotland and Ireland)._

_Oh yeah - DISCLAIMER: the Twilight universe is Stephenie Meyer's._

**Chapter Five:**

Although it was dark outside, the porch light was on as I drove up, turning Charlie's white house a pale yellow. Though Bella's old, red Chevy pick-up truck was a new addition, Charlie's house was exactly the same. Everything in Forks was exactly the same. It was like driving through a poor town that seemed to have escaped time. It hurt to know that everything was the same, but for me everything was so different. My pain had become more like an upset stomach, though, because I had refused to acknowledge it but it made daily life uncomfortable.

Once I had parked the car I just sat silently in the dark with the engine running and a cd playing, contemplating all of my options. One thing was certain, I was going to feign normalcy. Charlie and Bella didn't deserve to see me act like I had at home. Like I wasn't really there. Like I didn't exist. It was what I deserved for not taking care of Margaret as much as I should have, though; but that would upset Charlie.

I had been stupid. I had been trying to act like an "average teenager" for the past few months, just like Dad had advised me to do in his letter; but in doing that, I had neglected my responsibilities. It was so _childish_ of me to be irresponsible. Mom needed me. But not anymore. No one needed me anymore.

"Well, you can't beat a dead horse." I told the empty passenger seat with dark humor in little more than a whisper. I turned off the ignition and opened the door. Brrrr. It was cold outside, a lot colder than back home—obviously. Forks was the town where the sun never shined, and I was coming from the Golden State of eternal sunshine. The road was slick with February frost.

While inspecting my black jeep, I noticed that Chepi, the jeep, was in need of a good washing, but other than that she was fine. Next I checked the trailer attached to the back. Everything looked okay on the outside, but I'd have to check the inside later. Finally, I checked the bike at the back of Cheps; it, too, looked fine. Now, I just needed to pull myself together for Charlie and Bella. Or, at least as many of the pieces of myself that I could find. I walked to the front porch of the farm style home.

Instead of unlocking the door to the house, I knocked. If I had opened the door, it would have been way too symbolic - at least for me. Almost as if I was trying to say _I'm home!_ It made me uncomfortable.

The lock clunked, the door swung open, and there was Bella. She was wearing a pair of old sweats and an oversized t-shirt; but almost everything looked big on Bella because of her petite frame.

"Hey Bells," I said with a smile plastered on my face and a little too much enthusiasm. Her expression told me that I had overdone it and she could tell.

"Amergin! How was the trip? I'm glad you got here safely," Bella said, already worrying about me. Her big, brown eyes swept over me, checking to see if I really was fine. She really did not need to worry.

The house was the same on the inside, too, I noted with no surprise as Bella led me to the small, yellow kitchen, and then to the table with its mismatched chairs.

"So, what's up?" That was normal, right? Bella was already suspicious of my act, I needed to seem normal.

"Nothing, really. I was just reading while waiting for you to get here." On the table, an old, worn edition of _Wuthering Heights_ lay open to whatever page Bella stopped reading from years of use. I thought of when I went to the store to buy it for her, I could see the brand new copy clearly. But, my mind easily drifted to when I found my mother's copy on a shelf, my father at his desk my mother looking over color swatches. I needed to not think about my past.

"_Wuthering Heights_. A little depressing, but overall a very good read." I had to smile; my copy of the book looked exactly the same as Bella's, just an older version and possibly a little more tattered. I quoted Emily Bronte with a line that had playing in my head more than once over the past week, "Be with me always - take any form - drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! it is unutterable! I can not live without my life! I can not live without my soul!" Bellas' faced dropped a little with my quote, but she tried to hide it.

"I believe it was a gift from you," she said, pulling the book toward her and opening it to the front cover. Sure enough, there was poorly scrawled note saying

_Happy 11th Birthday Bella! Be the girl that "burned to bright for this world." Love Amergin_

"So I did." I had tried very hard to repress any memories from that period of my history, but it was inevitable that my mind always could bring things from the grave. Bella was staring at me. I knew I could not pretend for Bella; I was not an actor and Bella was trying so hard to watch every movement I made. Her expression was marked with pity. I could not stand it. "I'm going to get my stuff out of the car," I announced with a little too much vigor while jumping out of my seat.

"Oh. Okay." She looked a little miffed by my sudden, unintended harshness. I wanted to tell her I was sorry for snapping, but I did not. I had made too many apologies. "Do you need help unloading your car?"

"Nah, thanks though. Tonight I'll just bring some of my stuff in." I tried to sound kinder with a note of apology. I was not sure if it worked, but Bella looked slightly consoled.

"Alright." She replied.

"I guess I better go do that, then," I said as I rushed to get out of the tiny kitchen to avoid any of the questions that I could tell Bella was dying to ask; and then remembered Charlie. "Where's Charlie?"

"He's in the living room, but he fell asleep," Bella told me with a slight smile on her face. I sighed. I had not upset her. Good. And, bonus, I would not have to talk with Charlie, yet.

"Ah."

Instead of heading toward the front door, I went into the small living room. Like Bella had said, Charlie lay asleep on the couch, the TV's volume on low. Charlie was sprawled out on the couch in sweatpants and a FBI t-shirt I recognized as a gift from Margaret a few Christmases ago. I let out a little snort at the picture. Maybe in a different lifetime I would have found it comical enough to laugh. But not now. I grabbed the empty cup that sat on the coffee table; turned off the TV; pulled the blanket off the floor where it had fallen off and neatly laid it on Charlie; then went back into the yellow painted kitchen and put the cup into the sink. Finally, I went out the front door.

I stumbled while stepping outside - Bella must have turned off the porch light, because it was completely dark outside now. I went to my car, stumbled a few more times on the icy ground, opened the door to the backseats, grabbed my duffle bag - I had packed everything that I knew I would need for the next few days inside it - and cell phone from the center console. Closing the door and locking the car, I thought I could see a shape in the woods that grew next to Charlie's property. Something that had not been there before had been there only seconds ago, of that I was sure. With bag and phone in hand, I marched over and into the tree line, calling out to see if anyone was there. No one answered.

Back in the house, I found Charlie awake.

"Hey kiddo!" Charlie said with a very happy smile. I could tell that he was glad to have me in Forks. He and Margaret - Mom - were very close.

"Hi Charlie," I replied, trying to match his level of cheerfulness, but not quite able to. And, once again, the smile was plastered onto my face. His smile faltered for a second once he actually looked at me, but he didn't ask how I was feeling. Charlie had never been very good with emotional anythings.

"How was the drive? What time did you leave?" Charlie asked.

"Uh... the drive was okay, I guess. Some of the roads were a little icy," I said casually. "I left around seven yesterday morning. I left Eugene around ten this morning"

Charlie looked over to the clock, he nodded. I could see he was calculating my speed and how many stops I had made. He seemed satisfied.

"I'm going to take a shower then head off to bed," I yawned for dramatic effect. "I'm beat." In reality, I was not tired at all. Instead of staying to hear whatever Charlie was about to say in his sure to be very lengthy lecture, I bounded up the stairs with my bag and headed for the community bathroom.

After my shower, I deposited my bag in Bella's room. I was, of course, in for the shock of my life. Everything was the same. Same bluish-green walls and yellow lace curtains. Even Bella' baby rocker still sat in the corner, the only thing that really had changed in the last sixteen years or so was the swapping of a crib for a narrow bed and a desk added.

The room was small. I guess this was the very reason why my mom had forced Charlie to add on the downstairs bedroom and bathroom. I had gone on autopilot up the stairs to Bella's room. We were rarely here at the same time and Margaret usually slept in the downstairs bedroom. I headed back downstairs, toward the other bathroom and bedroom. After my shower, dressed in pajamas shorts and tshirt, I ran outside to grab the headphones I had forgotten in the car, nearly falling - not because of my ineptitude - but because of the ice caused by frigid temperature. I hastily unlocked the car - bouncing on the balls of my feet in slippers in an attempt to keep warm. Shutting the door, I sprinted back into the house, actually falling on my way there. Luckily, I had managed to not break any skin - or re-brake any of my healing scabs.

Bella was red, from silent laughter. She had been watching the whole tableau from the kitchen window. I stuck my tongue out at her and started to climb the stairs again when Charlie stopped me.

"What were you doing outside? What are you wearing?"

"Needed these," I dangled the headphones in front of him, "as for my outfit? Pajamas, clearly. Come on, Chuck."

"Humph," a typical Charlie response.

"Yeah." I said slowly, not quite sure what else to say.

"Need any help with anything?" Charlie asked. I could tell that he had no idea as to what he should be doing.

"Nope, I'm fine. Thanks though," this time my smile was less fake than before.

Without my noticing, Bella had followed me to the back room, and stood in the doorframe as I packed and repacked my duffle.

"Oh. Sorry," I said sheepishly. "I just need to..." I didn't know what I needed to do or what I should say.

"I guess I understand your mom's push for the room. Imagine if we had needed to share my room." She eyed the room skeptically, as if it were her own.

I was beginning to shiver from the window I had opened earlier. Bella noticed and went to close it. It was becoming easier to feel human with her, I guessed, because she wasn't scrutinizing me anymore.

"Do you think it will ever get warmer?" I asked her, pulling on a sweatshirt. It was one of Mom's. I had practically brought her whole wardrobe - most of her clothes still had her scent on them, they helped me feel close to her. Helped me cope with her decision.

"No." Bella said bleakly. We sighed in tandem, both missing warmer weather.

"How is Forks High?" I wasn't looking forward to the idea of attending, but Charlie had already made it clear that I could not just drop out of high school.

"Well, I don't know, really," she said looking at me with her chocolate brown eyes, "I only went for a day."

"True."

"But the people seem nice and the classes aren't difficult," she added. Class would be extra easy here. Super.

"That's good," I replied.

"Well..." I waited for her to finish but she didn't.

"Well, what?"

"There's this one boy," she said, turning her pale skin bright red.

"And," I encouraged her.

"I don't think he likes me very much," Oh. That wasn't quite what I expected her to say. Not the typical response girl response, but it was the typical Bella response. I was expecting to feign enthusiasm to something trivia, like a crush. I had acted excited thousands of times for Maddie and Bridget and even Mom. I had forgotten how alike Bella and I are about guys.

"Hmmm..." was the only thing that I could think of saying.

"No... it's not that... he looked... well... he looked angry." Odd. But he was probably lusting after her, and she took it as anger. Cause she's crazy.

"Hmmm..." I repeated, sitting down on the edge of the bed, Bella sat down next to me. "What did you say to him?"

"I said 'hi,' but I think that was it," she said, still red with embarrassment. She was even more confused than I was.

"I don't think it had anything to do with you." If he was angry, that is, "maybe he wants you, and you just thought that emotion was anger." I tried to sound playful, but it really just came out as I don't really care.

"You should have seen him, though" Bella told me with a sigh, probably relieved to have shared this with someone, "it was weird."

"Sounds like it," I agreed. "I'm sure he doesn't bite!" laughing slightly as I said it. "Who was it?"

"I'm sure!" she said with a smile. "You're right. I'm being stupid." she apologized, "I think his name was Edward."

"Not stupid," I said, trying to think what exactly her reaction was, "maybe just _overreacting? Cullen? I think I've heard of him…_"

"You're probably right," she said, looking embarrassed again. "It's getting late, we should go to bed."

"Agreed." I unzipped my soccer bag to grab Patrick and a favorite blanket of mine blanket. I followed Bella to the door, but before I turned out the light I poked my head out the door and called out to Charlie.

"Night Charles."

"Sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite," he said with a chuckle. Once he flicked the lights off in the living room and I could see him climbing up the stairs - the floorboards creaking underneath him - I closed the door.

Then the house became very quiet. Everything was at peace. Except for me. I couldn't sleep. I sat in the middle of the air mattress with crossed legs. I decided to practice meditating. I loved yoga; I had gotten a job at a gym near my house once I turned sixteen-on Tuesdays and Thursdays I was the early morning yoga instructor. On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays I led the cycling class. Which reminded me: I would have to check what the weather looked like so that I could go on a bike ride soon, or maybe I would go rock climbing. I could not wait for the warmer weather, I loved to be outside and I hadn't been kayaking since last summer. My mind tailspinned from there.

I had forgotten to call Bridget, Maddie, and Rayne. I crawled over to my bag to grab my phone. _13 Missed Calls_ the home screen read. And then, _9 New Voice Messages_. And also, _17 New Text Messages_.

First I sent out a group text: _In Forks. I'm fine. Call you soon._

Next, I called Rayne. When he didn't answer, I hung up. After Rayne I called Maddie, who didn't pick up either. Then I called Bridget, who picked up.

"Hey B," I whispered, hopping out of bed and ruffling through my bag to find a jacket and sweats.

"Why are you whispering?" Bridget questioned.

As I pulled the door to my room closed behind me and headed toward the back door, I answered in a louder whisper "Everyone's asleep."

"Only makes sense," she said grumpily. Then I noticed how groggy her voice was, I felt bad for waking her. It was late. I checked my phone to see how late. 4am? Really? I hadn't noticed the time slip by me that quickly.

"Sorry Bridge." I said apologetically.

"No sweat, Am! I'm glad that you called! I wasn't really sleeping..."

"Well, I just wanted to let you know that I made it. I saw all of the messages you left," she chuckled a little, "But I should probably let you go, you sound tired."

"Alright. I'll call you when I-I-I feel more awake, maybe after morning practice," she said, yawning.

"Okay."

"I miss you SO much! Love you!"

"Miss you too, B. Talk to you later." Then we both hung up.

After the call, I paced around the house. I needed to occupy my mind in anyway possible; but by three thirty I couldn't handle the caged feeling, so I went back to the guest room and scavenged through my bag. Finally, I found what I was looking for, my running shoes, the running armband for my phone, and a pair of socks.

As soon as I laced up my shoes, I flew out the door into the cold, crisp morning and headed for the forest path next to the house. It was freezing, but I ignored that. Instead, I focused on the feel of the ground underneath me the burn in my throat as I took deep breaths of the freezing air. I watched for icy patches on the ground, but was not overly concerned about them. I just needed to run. To run and not think - about anything. Alternative rock music drowned out the quiet.

I went back to Charlie's house a little before sunrise. I needed to take a shower before my first day at Forks High. Joy.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Bella and Charlie were both up by the time I got out of the bathroom. They sat in companionable silence at the little kitchen table, Bella eating cereal and Charlie reading the newspaper. Bella was still in her pajamas. Hmmmm...

"What time does school start?"

"7:55." Bella said in between bites of cheerios. I looked at the clock. It was a little before seven. Bella was watching me, "You're a little early." I could here the smile in her voice, even though she tried to conceal it with another mouthful of cereal.

"Don't choke," I said this a little more dryly than I had intended to. Bella let out a giggle, and I playfully glared at her then smiled.

"I'm glad your eager for you first day of school. I know you'll like it a lot!" Charlie said happily. As much as I hated Forks, I was glad that I could make Charlie happy.

"I'm sure I will Charlie," I was able to give him a real smile this time.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Once she had gotten dressed and an acceptable amount of time had passed, Bella grabbed her school bag and we headed out the door.

"Can we take my car?" Bella asked, blushing slightly.

"Yeah, of course." I wondered whether Bella really wanted to drive, or if she was afraid of my driving. "I just need to grab my school bag from Chepster." I unlocked the jeep, opening the passenger door. My simple, black backpack and messenger bag sat on the seat; side-by-side waiting for me to decide which bag would accompany me on my first day. I went for the backpack. Inside the bag, I only carried my binder, a doodle notebook, pens, pencils, some highlighters, and my calculator. From my purse underneath the passenger seat, I pulled out my wallet. After that, I grabbed a soccer ball - maybe I'd play during lunch. "Do you know if Forks has a girls' soccer team?"

"Ummm... I think so." Bella responded, a little unsure. I shrugged. If Forks did have a team, I would try out. If they didn't, I would do track. Even though I had trouble walking across a flat surface, I love sports. Not so much watching them, as I did actually participating in them. Soccer was my favorite, but football was fun with friends. I loved to play volleyball on the beach and basketball could be fun if no one was too competitive. I had always liked capture-the-flag during and just running was therapeutic for me, but I hadn't competed since middles school.

"Did you say something?" Bella was staring at me and I realized that I had completely spaced out.

"Yeah, you will need to go to the office so we should probably leave _now._" Ah, that would explain why her door was open. I still stood next to my car.

"Right... Bella I love your truck," I told her as I got in.

"Thanks," in her eyes, I could see that she loved it too. And it was a fantastic truck, it had _so_ much personality. My car was rugged, black, and relatively new. It had tinted windows and my bike could fit in the back. I loved Chepi, but she would never be quite like Bella's old pick-up - charming. Where the jeep rumbled silently, Bell's truck gave an almighty roar as we made our way to school. Then I remembered something.

"Bella, you never did say which class you had with Edward?" I was desperate to know. So I could send her embarrassing texts during said class.

"Uh," she stammered, blushing fiercely. "The boy I told you about last night?" She was being particularly obtuse today.

"It must be biology, given how you're acting," her face completely gave away that I had completely hit the nail on the head, "I read minds. Didn't I tell you?" Bella turned into the small school parking lot.

"Ha. ha. ha." she said without humor, turning off the ignition. I jumped out of the car and threw my soccer ball into the bed of the pick-up. I started to walk away from a very embarrassed Bella.

"I got to go!" I called to her over my shoulder, swinging my bag over my shoulders and walking toward the office.

It was warm in the small building compared to outside. An orange counter top separated the office into two parts. A kind, stout lady sat at the desk behind the counter scribbling notes as she talked to someone on a phone. She held up her hand in a quick wave and smiled at me and returned to her phone call.

When she hung up, she said in a cheery voice "Little Amergin Casey! It's so good to see you!" In her eyes, I could see the switching from welcome to pity as she thought of _why_ I was in Forks. "I'm so sorry. I can only imagine how much pain your in." I just nodded. She really had no idea as to how I felt-or, more specifically, did not feel. It was nice to pretend that everything was fine. "Okay... well..." she looked away from my face. Obviously, I needed to perfect the _acting normal_ thing. "Let me just print out your schedule."

"Thank you, Mrs. Cope"

"I am surprised that you don't remember me!" and her face made that clear, "you were very young when I saw you last. Oh... it must have been at one of your mom's reunions." I forgot to pretend as if I didn't remember or know half the things that swirled around my brain. She handed me the paper she had just printed and a pink slip.

"I need you to have all of your teachers sign this slip of paper. You can turn it in after school."

I nodded, "Thanks again, Mrs. Cope."

"You're welcome," she said smiling sadly at me, sitting back down in her chair. I left her as the phone began to ring again.

Would everyone react to me in this way? With pity that I did not want nor deserve.

I had to do a double take. I was so deep in thought that I had walked past Bella who was now hurrying to catch up to where I had stopped.

"Hey," she said breathlessly, "I wanted to check if we have any classes together." I gave Bella my paper. While she read through it, she shook her head. "Nothing." She stared at me, amazed.

"That's funny." The likelihood of us not sharing _any_ classes in a school this small was vaguely interesting. Bella handed my schedule back to me.

"Biology is in that building," Bella announced, pointing me toward the right direction.


	6. Chapter 6

_Thanks to everyone who has submitted reviews!_

_Please tell me what you think! How's my writing?_

_Disclaimer - The Twilight Universe belongs to Stephenie Meyer._

**Chapter Six:**

Neither of us said anything as we walked to my first class, but the silence between us was not awkward. I kept my head down, no attention-attracting today. Not for me. I made sure my outfit said that, too: sensible and monochromatic. The pavement was cracked and gray; the air that I took in deep breaths was crisp and cool and sweet with the smell of possible rain. Looking up only confirmed what my nose told me - the clouds were growing thicker and darker. The swirling clouds overhead were beautifully gloomy. A mirror of my mood today, I suppose.

I pulled my eyes away from the sky to resume looking at the ground, but noticed that someone was staring at Bella and me. That's odd. The boy in question had brilliant copper hair, pale skin that seemed to luminescent this cloudy morning, and a breathtakingly attractive smile on his face. Obviously he was not looking at us because of me. He wouldn't be smiling if that were the case. No, he must be smiling because of Bella. Maybe that was Edward.

She, too, walked with her head bent toward the ground, eyes one her feet, so that she would not trip over them - which would be such a Bella thing to do. So intuitively oblivious, of course she didn't see that he smiled for her. If this had happened a week ago I would have laughed and teased Bella. Instead I just wanted to point it out to her.

"Bella, is that who I think it is?" I asked, motioning towards the unbelievably beautiful boy who still had his eyes locked on Bella. She looked up and then quickly looked down at her feet turning a very bright red.

"That's Edward, alright," she said in a small whisper. Ah. So I had guessed right. Apparently Bella had misread him. He obviously did not _not _like Bella. I stared at Edward again. He was still standing and staring, but now at me. He wasn't smiling anymore, though, but he looked faintly curious. Maybe he hadn't heard about me yet. I'll just have to keep my fingers crossed that that happens to be the case, but it is doubtful for Forks to keep a secret like the death of Sheriff Swan's little sister Maggie. The air that rushed in between my teeth and made a hissing sound as I took a very sharp, painful gasp for air that made my whole body frame shudder. The _forbidden topic_. I hadn't let myself think about her, so this cold reference to mom and her death hurt. I could feel the grimace of pain cross my face as I thought of the _one person_ I swore to myself I would not. The picture of my mother lying motionless and broken on a stainless steel table flashed before my eyes. Curse my stupid perfect memory. I chomped hard on the inside of my cheek to make myself focus on the present and used Edward as a focal point. Staring at him as hard as he stared at me, trying to make him turn away first. The competition helped me to refocus.

My own worst enemy was, of course, the only person I could not run from.

"Stop staring at him!" Bella whispered over dramatically at me; luckily she had not seen the emotional torture I had just endured. That I had _allowed _to overwhelm me.

But no matter, we were almost to the Biology classroom. I was practically walking backwards to look at Edward, which was more convenient because the icy breeze whipped my hair into my face if I walked forward. But, to be honest, I had completely forgotten the allure of Edward - his feelings for Bella and her reaction to them did spark some curiosity, but I tried to push out that emotion, it was making me weak. As proven by my breakdown mere seconds earlier. Anyway, he was just a focal point for me to look at to escape the misery that seemed to be permanently burned into the back of my eyelids. Would I ever escape? I looked once more at him. He still stood next to a silver Volvo in the parking lot with a confused expression evident. Then his face was wiped clean of all emotions - it was a little weird. But I envied it all the same. Then I bit my lip while turning around too quickly, nearly tripping in the process.

"Whoops." I said, catching Bella's arm to steady myself. "Sorry," I said, immediately panicking as Bella lost her footing too. I tried to take a leaf out of Edward's book and look completely neutral. "Well," I ribbed her, "I can see your fascination. I say go for it. You'd make a cute, pasty couple."

"Ugh," Bella rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Well, here we are. I'll see you later. Lunch, maybe?"

"Alright." I opened the door and let the warm classroom air thaw my frozen face.

I went up to the front desk, where a man sat correcting papers.

"Excuse me," I said softly.

"Can I help you?" asked the man at the desk, looking up from his work. "Oh, wait. You're the new girl," he flicked through some of his papers until he found whatever it was that he was looking for, "Amergin Casey, right?" I nodded. "I'm Mr. Banner" I nodded again. Then I remembered my manners.

"It's very nice to meet you," I sounded fake, even to my own ears. The phony smile on my face was beginning to make my cheeks burn. Could he tell?`

"And you," he replied. I was not sure whether he could here the pain in my voice. I still was thinking of... whatever, I should not have slipped like that. "Well... this class is pretty full, so for today you'll have to be in a group of three for our lab."

"Okay." I began to chew on my lower lip as Mr. Banner scanned the classroom for a group I could join.

"You can join Alice Cullen's group, she's in the middle row towards the back," said Mr. Banner while he pointed toward a very beautiful, very tiny, very pale girl. What was up with Forks and its population of paper white super models? "If you need any help or feel like your behind, let me know."

"Thank you," I said looking at the ground. The bell rang as I walked toward Alice Cullen. I could feel eyes boring holes into my back, all the while I wished that I could just disappear.

Mr. Banner started giving directions once I reached the shared desk. He was still talking while I looked for a stool to sit in, I just tuned him out, it's not like I really needed to hear the lesson. Great, I guessed I would just have to stand during the whole class. Alice cleared her throat so I looked at her. She pointed to her seat. I shook my head fervently, which stung from a looming headache, and whispered "That's okay, thank you so much though."

Then she whispered back in a melodious, bell-like voice, "There are more stools in the very back of the classroom, I'll get one. You can have this one." It sounded almost like a song. I managed a small (rather pathetic, if you ask me) smile and she smiled in return, then walked to the back of the classroom.

Mr. Banner was walking around the classroom handing each group slide samples. This would be fun, I loved Biology. And, as an added bonus, I had already done this lab. Alice was walking back by the time Mr. Banner dropped off our samples and the worksheet that went along with it.

I grabbed the microscope and the first slide at once, hoping that it could help occupy my beehive of a mind. Then I remembered that it was a group lab. "Do you mind?" I questioned Alice and the boy. He looked so _plain_ standing next to Alice. He was short, too, but nowhere near as tiny as Alice. He had brown hair, brown eyes, and glasses. All so very average in comparison to the pixie like girl standing next to him. Alice had spiky, jet black hair, expressive amber eyes, and her whole face was just _perfect_. I couldn't put my finger on it exactly, but she vaguely reminded me of Edward - even though I only had seen him at a distance. Not that they really looked alike, it was just the feeling I got.

"Not at all," the boy said, "by the way, I'm Ben."

"Nice to meet you Ben," I knew I would like being his lab partner, "I am Amergin. You can call me Am, or any variation of my name really, if you'd like."

"I'm Alice, and I'm so very glad to meet you!" she sang, with a kind smile on her face. I could not help but give her an actual smile, albeit a tiny one. Alice seemed like one of those perpetually bubbly people that you can not help but be happy (for lack of a better word for my case) around.

After our introduction, I grabbed the microscope and checked the first slide, writing down the answer. I repeated this with the second slide, but then I remembered my two other lab partners. "Sorry." I could feel the heat rising to my face. "Would anyone else like to look?" I asked sheepishly.

"Sure," said Ben.

"Yes please," said Alice at the same moment.

When Ben looked into the microscope, I could tell that he did not really know what he was looking at. He just nodded looking at the paper where I had scrawled the answers, which I knew to be right, as if confirming them. But when Alice looked, it was obvious that she knew what she was doing and was more than a little surprised to see that I had gotten both of the answers right. This might have stung another day, but I just couldn't bring myself to really care.

She took out slide number three, scanned it for all of a second, and in undeniably exquisite penmanship neatly wrote out the answer. She then put in slides four and five, finishing the rest of the lab. I decided that I knew what I was doing, so it really didn't matter for me, but I was sympathetic towards Ben. His grade would be affected if he did not understand this.

Mr. Banner walked by out lab and noticed that all three of us sat silently, doing nothing.

"Are you done with your lab?" Mr. Banner asked. We all nodded. I had to guess that he was use to Alice always finishing everything very early - the rest of the class still toiled over microscopes and books - in general, looking very confused. "Alice, did you let either Ben or Amergin even touch the microscope?" he questioned, reaching out to take our paper. When he actually looked at the worksheet, his expression was surprised.

"Is there something wrong?" asked Alice, almost smugly.

"No... it's just that... Amergin, is this your handwriting?" I nodded and he scratched his head. Then the surprise faded away, replaced with something akin to understanding. "Were you in advanced classes before?" I had been in all the AP classes back home, but that wasn't necessarily why I knew the answers.

"Yes."

"So you have already done this lab." He didn't ask it as a question.

"Mhm, but it was a little different. And it's been a few months."

"I'm sure," he said dryly. "Well, maybe it's a good thing that you're paired with a Cullen," he turned around, muttering to himself, "now I'll just have to move Ben so he actually learns something this year."

Alice flashed a smile at me, and I returned it with a weak one of my own. The period was almost over, so I pulled out my schedule to see where I was going to go next. English. I wonder where that is.

"Hey, um, Alice... could you tell me where the English classroom is?"

"Of course..." her voiced trailed off at the end as her eyes glazed over, almost as if she was looking at something far away. Then, abruptly, she came back from wherever she was and smiled, but this time her smile didn't touch her eyes.

The bell rang and everyone hurriedly put their belongings into their bags to rush to their next class. Alice, though, was taking an exceptionally long time.

"Ready," she said to me, but her eyes were looking somewhere else again.

"Yeah... are you feeling alright?" Alice looked fine - better than fine, actually - but she was acting strangely. I mean, maybe she always acted like that, but it was weird.

"I'm fine. We should go before we're late for class."

Once we reached the English classroom, Alice stalled a few seconds, by asking, "so, I heard you're from California. What part?"

"I am from Santa Barbara, it's about two hours north of LA."

She nodded, not really paying attention, "I 've been before, it's gorgeous… well, I'll see you later!"

"Bye." She was odd. Nice. But _odd._ I could tell I liked her.

The classroom was warm and humming with pre-class chatter. Eyes turned when I entered and the humming turned quickly to hushed whispers. I just kept my head down as I walked to the teacher's desk, shielding my face with my long dirty blond hair. It looked darker than usual. It was surprising how quickly the gloom of Forks was able to penetrate my California sunshine glow.

Upon reaching the desk, I learned from the teacher that we were reading Wuthering Heights. Then the teacher pointed to the back, where an empty desk sat. I directed my gaze to the floor and walked with a purpose to my desk as the bell rang, ending the whispers. Edward was sitting next to the desk that the English teacher had just told me to sit in. Maybe later I could ask him about his interest in Bella. Or maybe I wouldn't. It really didn't matter. Looking at him sent a shiver down my back, he was even more amazingly handsome up close, and yet something about him sent shivers down my spine—in a way I had never felt before. But out of the whole class, Edward was the only person that would not look at me. I didn't feel the disappointment though, of him not looking at me, because I couldn't bring myself to be vain. Not today. Not for a while. I folded my arms carefully on my desk and laid my chin to rest over my hands, listening to the teacher talk about one of my favorite books.

When I looked at the clock, there were only ten more minutes of this class left. I had spent over thirty minutes contemplating my lack of emotions, while casually glancing at Edward - who was sitting to still to be normal, or even natural. I would swear that it didn't even look like he was breathing. And if I wasn't mistaken, I would say that he was focusing a little too hard on the back of the girl's head that sat in front of him. Exhaling quietly, I straightened in my seat and pulled out my schedule. Up next, math class.

The bell rang, and there was a rush of students - Edward was the first person out the door - but I got up slowly and wondered how I was possibly going to get to my next class. Luckily, or unluckily, depending on how you look at it, an overly friendly boy rescued me.

"Hi! I'm Eric Yorkie! You must be the new girl!" This boy was a little too cheery for my taste. And he looked like he needed to wash his face and his hair... such a greaseball. One day he would understand the power of soap, but he seemed friendly enough now.

"Hey..." my voice was hoarse, "I was wondering where the math classroom is?" I handed him my schedule without thinking.

He took it, smiling at me all the while, and said, "You're in luck, I'm heading in that direction! I have Bio this period and the classrooms are in the same wing." And again he smiled - I wondered if his cheeks ever hurt from the effort?

"Thanks. You're way too nice." Could I match his level of enthusiasm?

As he led me to my math class, he chattered happily about how much he loved Forks and how much I was going to love it. I just nodded to keep him talking so that I wouldn't have to talk. Once we reached the classroom though, I pulled open the door quickly. If necessary, I would hang out with him only so that I didn't have to do any of the talking.

"Thanks Eric." His smiled widened, then he rushed to get to his class. I walked up to the teacher's desk. When I reached the teacher, he actually made me introduce myself to the class. This might have been embarrassing if I didn't have the emotional capacity of a teaspoon at the moment.

"Hi. I'm Amergin Casey. I recently moved here from Santa Barbara, California." My voice sounded flat to the point of dreariness. To make amends, I gave a weak attempt at a smile, but only one side of my mouth cooperated. With a half smile, I channeled Eric and added, "I look forward to getting to know everyone!" I then quickly went to the empty seat at the back of the classroom, sitting next to Edward. He didn't look at me, again. I could hear my name being whispered and I could see the staring, but Edward's statue like posture and complete focus on the math teacher's lecture was unnerving. I paid little attention to what the teacher said, but instead let his monotonous tone wash over me lulling me into a waking sleep.

When the blessed bell finally rang, the teacher called out "There _might_ be a quiz tomorrow." This time several students hung back, and I was sure, for me. But not Edward. He was the first to get out of the class.

With the help of some of my new classmates, I found my next class - P.E. At home, I never had to take P.E., I had always done sports which replaced the two years of mandatory physical education class. In Forks, of course, P.E. was required all four years. The teacher gave me an extra set of the uniform everyone had to change into saying, "I'm going to let you borrow these for today, but I expect by tomorrow that you have your own set of P.E. clothes to change into." Then I introduced myself to him. Upon entering the gym, I saw Alice and Edward. The likelihood that I could have almost every class with one person didn't seem that low in a high school the size of Forks, but it definitely seemed odd given that I had no classes with Bella.

Today was basketball. I was picked first for someone's - Tyler's, I think - team. Edward and Alice were the last to be picked, Alice was on my team. It was odd: they were both gorgeous and by the car Edward was standing next to in the parking lot, probably pretty wealthy, yet no one went over to talk to them. I felt like there were three groups in the gym, the walls dividing them quite tangible. There was me, then there was Edward and Alice, and then there was everyone else - everyone else, who seemed happy and whole and normal.

It was awkward. The basketball game was too social and too normal given that I didn't know anyone. I felt on the outside. But it wasn't because I was terrible at basketball - I actually scored a few of my team's points - but it just wasn't my game of choice nor was I in any condition to be around so many people. By the end of the period, I had been adopted by the "everyone else," even though I still felt like I should have been a part of the Alice's little group. As everyone headed to the cafeteria, I quietly excused myself from the group and headed toward the parking lot. Bella's rusty, red Chevy was enough to spot and the ball was still where I had thrown it, in the bed of the truck.

The football field was easy enough to find and they had soccer goals in. I quickly pulled off my boat shoes, threw down my bag. Kicking the ball around the field, my body running on autopilot, I was able to let my thoughts just fades away. An icy wind picked up and soft snowflakes fell lightly onto my jeans and sweater, but I ignored them.

"Aren't you freezing?" asked an amazing voice that was richer than silk and smoother than velvet, from somewhere behind me. Because of its suddenness and abruptness whoever it was scared me.

Pressing my hand to my heart, while spinning around, I said "You surprised me..." my rusty voice trailed off at the end, because it was none other than Edward who stood behind me asking me if I was cold. He looked gorgeous, maybe even better than gorgeous, with his already wind-tussled hair covered in snow. "I'm fine," I replied once I had found my train of thought again. Truthfully, though, my feet were numb with cold and the snowflakes were melting into my clothes.

Edward laughed a little but it didn't touch his eyes, "I'm Edward Cullen" - I knew he and Alice had to be related somehow, I sensed it - "and you must be freezing. Your lips are blue."

"I guess you're right." I didn't want to make a scene, even if I didn't want to leave. My thoughts had melted away for a half hour or so, but now they were back. Wiping my feet a little, I pulled my shoes on, grabbed my bag and headed for a bench that sat underneath an overhang.

He must have followed me to the bench, because Edward said next, "So you like soccer?" I just nodded my head. "And you're from California, right?"

"Mhm." Maybe if I were short with him, he would leave me alone.

"So Forks is probably pretty cold for you?" What his incentive was to talk to me, I could not understand.

"It's fine." My cold mood, though, was thawing as we spoke because I had looked into his eyes. I swear that looking into Edward Cullen's eyes was a cardinal sin, verging on carnal. My heart sputtered for a second as my brain memorized his face, but then I beat back all of the crazy emotions I could feel rising. I would _not _let an emotion in, because once on emotion comes they all come and I will not be in pain. NO. And, to make matters worse, I had just gotten out of relationship to uncomplicated my life. No need for me to re-complicate it by falling for someone with obvious issues. Hello, English and math class? With some effort, I tore my eyes from his, but not without seeing the confusion crinkle his forehead, as I had earlier.

"I know this is very forward and very personal" - Oh no - "but, what are you thinking, right now? What's on your mind?"

_****Author's Note:_

_I know... total cliff hanger, right?_

_Anyway, you know the drill... review and tell me what you think!_


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven:**

"Excuse me?" Who was this guy, anyway? Edward Cullen?

"I know. I'm sorry, I'm being exceptionally rude, but…" He stopped, and just waited patiently for me to say something. I tried to not do two things: one, look into Edward's eyes again, and two, let my emotions touch me. I was failing miserably at both. I couldn't help myself anymore. His liquid amber eyes washed over me. They pierced through me. His golden eyes touched my icy heart and melted my resolve—the resolve to not feel any emotion. But the emotion I was feeling now didn't hurt, it was - well it wasn't happy - but maybe peaceful. Yes. That was it. As I sat with Edward Cullen I realized that he made me feel... content. "See, like right now. What are you thinking?"

I wanted to share with him this blissful feeling. The euphoria I was in, that this strange, beautiful boy whom I didn't even know helped me achieve. It was better than the numb that I had succumbed myself to and, of course, better than the pain I refused to acknowledge. I just shrugged. I was _not _going to lose this feeling. But even as I held onto it, the feeling began to change; it didn't go away, but it was mixing with a multitude of others. Curiosity. Pain. Anger. Pain. And something wonderful just beyond my mental reach. And pain. When would I be ready to grapple with the feelings my mother's death left in me?

"Your doing it again," he whispered with a breathtakingly beautiful, crooked smile on his flawless, pale face. He leaned in a little bit, but still kept his distance from me. Maybe he couldn't feel what I was feeling.

"What?" I barely breathed. My heart was pounding in my ears.

"Driving me crazy." He said simply. "What are you thinking?" Okay. After getting over the fact that he made me feel good, this kid was cheesier than all get out. Who says shit like that? Honestly? I mean, I'm going through an emotional and existential crisis, and he's giving one liners from a bad 80s movie.

"At first," - my voice was hoarse, constricted with all of the emotions that were storming through my body - " and all of today, really, I tried not to think about - anything. But, just now... I don't know." How could I possibly explain to Edward, whom I didn't even know, exactly what I had just felt? All of the emotions, some good and some not, that were threatening to take me under. I had been numbing myself for a week, not a long enough preparation time to handle the world. It was strange that my life had turned upside down in just the span of a week. "This is silly." I barely said, too low for Edward to possibly hear. And it was silly. How could he understand what I was feeling when I didn't even know? I didn't know him at all and so I added, "you're incredibly good looking, but that doesn't really give you the right to be so random… or weird. Do you know how odd this is?"

He huffed. "Odd? Do you know how confusing you are?"

"No." I answered honestly. "But you... why do you even care?" Now that I think about it, it's a totally legit question. What did it matter to this boy-man, who looked as if he just walked off a podium for a Greek god statue, that I felt like my life was falling apart and that mind was betraying me? Or maybe he could sense it, too, like I had sensed his relationship with Alice. Or maybe he could see the relief that just looking into his gorgeous eyes gave me. A million ideas were swimming in my head. Each one not letting my mind rest, each new thought provided an image to back up what I was thinking. It was hopelessly confusing.

I need my sketchbook and my pencil. They would help organize the thoughts.

"An excellent question." His eyes clouded for a second, then they returned to their perfect clear dark amber color. The closer I looked, the more I noticed that his eyes were fathomless and changing, darkening somehow. I could stare in them forever and never know any of the secrets that were hidden in them. Every fiber of my being longed to just stay and try, but than the rational part of me kicked in. What was I doing here? Why was he making me act like this?

"Until your able to answer it, I think I'll keep my thoughts to myself, thanks." I grabbed my bag, slung it over my shoulder, picked up the soccer ball, and started walking away from Edward, not really sure where to go; just knowing that I could not look at Edward again or I would tell him everything that was on my mind. I don't know if that would be a good thing or a bad thing.

Then something hard and ice-cold hold grabbed my hand, preventing me from continuing. With that touch, my whole arm felt like it was on fire. But an amazing fire. I wanted my whole body to be immersed in this tingling hot-cold feeling-fiery and icy at the same time. Every nerve in my hand felt amazing.

Initially, I looked at my hand to see what in the world could be so cold and wonderful. It was a hand. I followed the hand to the wrist to the arm, up the neck to the face. Edward's face was contorted into an expression that couldn't be just one emotion. Shock. Curiosity. Joy. Confusion.

"Oh," I said slightly startled; attempting to remove my hand from his icy grip. He, too, quickly withdrew himself - still staring at me. Almost like he couldn't believe that he had just touched me. Did he feel the whole hand thing, too? And his skin. I couldn't get over how cold and hard his skin was. Or maybe I was just imagining things. Maybe it was nothing. Just maybe.

Mere seconds after, Edwards face was completely wiped of emotion - like earlier. How could he do that? How could he change from one thing to another so quickly?

"You must be an excellent poker player." I said absentmindedly.

"What?"

"I said, 'you must be an excellent poker player.'"

"I heard that, but... why?"

"Well it obviously isn't because you read minds," he began to laugh at that. And it wasn't just a chuckle, it was a full on laugh. I just stood still, waiting for him to stop.

"Okay," he smiled that crooked smile I was beginning to love, "why do you think I would make a great poker player, since I can't read minds?"

"Because," and now I didn't know how to phrase what exactly it was about Edward that made me think of this. First, I thought of how quickly he was able to hide what he was thinking. But, it really felt more like he was keeping secrets, and that he was good at keeping them. "Well, you seem to be able to hide your emotions fairly well. But the main thing is -" and here I automatically tilted my head, as if changing my view point could solve the enigma of Edward - "I think you have a lot of secrets - big secrets - and your pretty good at keeping them." And as I said this out loud, it only made sense. It had to be true.

"Hmmmm..." he said noncommittally, but I could tell by looking into his eyes that I had struck the right note. That he, Edward, was keeping a few secrets. And I wanted to know them-all of them. I wanted to get to know Edward, and I couldn't explain why.

Then the bell rang.

"Well, I'll see you later, I guess." I walked off, leaving Edward where he was standing, still staring at me. I had no idea where I was going, but I knew that moving was my best course of action.

Then it hit me: the whole time I had been talking to Edward, I hadn't thought about my mother. I couldn't decide if this was good or bad.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The rest of the day passed with little excitement. My history class was nice, if a little boring. Edward was in my Spanish class. He ignored me the whole period. Sometimes I caught him looking at me, but he would look away quickly after that. I followed his cue, not talking to him and once class ended I quietly packed my things and walked to the office to turn in my pink slip.

"Have a nice first day?" Mrs. Cope, the lady in the office, greeted me cheerfully.

"Yeah, thank you." I said with a big, fake smile on my face that made my cheeks hurt. I wonder what she would say if I told her that I met the most beautiful person. Ever. And that he made me feel _good_. And that I also thought he was extremely strange.

"Forks is a great place! You'll love it in no time!" She replied with a smile and genuine enthusiasm. All the "happy" was bringing down the feeling that I had been carrying with me since lunch. Since I had met Edward.

"I'm sure I will." I told her, turning around and heading out into the cold.

"Hey, you." Said Bella in her quiet and sincere voice.

"Hey, yourself."

"How was your first day?" I just shrugged. "Ok, I get it."

"I'm sorry, I just don't feel like talking anymore." I admitted to her tiredly.

"You do sound exhausted." I guess the lack of sleep was finally getting to me.

We both hopped into her truck and headed back to Charlie's house. Once there, I went up to the back room changed into one of Mom's shirts and curled up into a ball on the bed. Unconsciousness overtook me quickly.

I woke up to the muted sounds of Bella's and Charlie's voices. Before heading to the living room, I changed my shirt, put on black running leggings, and my running shoes.

"Hey kiddo!" Charlie's voice boomed from the kitchen table, where he and Bella sat eating what looked like roast.

"Hi Charlie." The sleep was still in my voice, making me sound groggy. "I was just heading out for a run. I'll see you later."

"I think you should eat something." Charlie looked at me as if, at any moment, I would collapse from lack of nutrition.

"I'm really not hungry, thanks though."

"I really - " Bella interrupted,

"When you get back Amergin, you should eat. Dad, you were telling me about..." I didn't listen to the rest of her sentence, I just mouthed thank you and went out the door.

The sun was setting and Forks looked beautiful. I had so many things to sketch. A thousand pictures in my mind just waiting to be put down on a piece of paper. For now, though, they'd have to wait. Now, I needed to run.

The air was cool and sweet and crisp, stinging as I gulped it down. The ground was soft from the snow that had melted earlier and was muddy in some places. The forest path that I had decided to take was darker because of the foliage and setting sun. I looked up at the cathedral ceiling the trees made above me. They were alive with the sounds of small animals and the wind. Each sound was intensified in the dark and damp that permeated everywhere. It was wonderful. How amazing would it be just to get lost here? To never see anyone again and to just wander. Then Edward's face appeared in my mind's eye, and I knew that I couldn't stay away from him. But I think I had to try. It was just too weird: the way I felt about Edward. How could I feel so strongly about someone I didn't even know?

With each pounding footstep, my resolve strengthened. I needed to forget about Edward Cullen. I needed to act as if everything at lunch today didn't happen. Easy enough. I had so many other things to worry about in my life.

When I got back to Charlie's house, it was dark outside. I grabbed the key from its hiding place and unlocked the door. Before anyone could notice me I locked the door behind me and ran to take a shower. Once done with my shower, I pulled Mom's shirt back on, grabbed Patrick and plopped myself on the bed. I was fidgety. In my bag, I rummaged through my things until I found my doodle notebook and a pencil. I quickly flipped past the pools of blood and the words I had written, barely legible with tears. Then I just let my hands release the images that had been floating around in my head. From the paper, Edward Cullen stared back at me. I wasn't able to capture him perfectly. How could I? But, somehow I was able to sketch how he made me feel. But, this was not helping me in the not thinking about Edward Cullen department, it really only helped to increase the pain of my already throbbing head. I put the sketchbook at the bottom of my bag, and instead pulled out some aspirin and a stainless steel water bottle that I had left in it. After the aspirin, I fell asleep almost instantly.

I was tortured with images of my father lying on the bathroom floor - pale and puking - and of my mother - cold and dead on the table at the morgue. And Edward Cullen kept running through my dreams, just out of my reach. When I woke up at three, I was soaked in a cold sweat. I changed into another pair of leggings, grabbed my cycling shoes and headed out the front door with a bottle of water, phone, and car keys.

I needed to get away. If I could just make my body go fast enough I could get away from my problems and my nightmares. Just maybe.


	8. Chapter 8

_I don't own Twilight. Shocker._

**Chapter Eight:**

My breath hung in clouds of moisture around my head. The cold gnawed at my ears and nose. There was no breeze, but the air was cold as it whipped in my face while I cycled my way through Forks and away. Far away from the things that reminded me of things I didn't want to think about. Chicken.

Ice patches covered the ground where puddles had once been. A death trap if I had ever seen one. Then my shrill, hysteric laugh pierced the silence.

"Death trap! HAH!" I was talking to no one. I sounded crazy. Crazy. I wasn't always crazy. Eccentric, sometimes. But not crazy. Or had I been? I definitely was not the same person that I once was. Before all of this, I mean. This started a long time ago.

With each breath in, my heart cried and my head screamed. Why? How? Life isn't fair! She was too young. Too lively. Too sad. Which was the point, wasn't it? She was miserable with life. She missed Dad too much. But I missed him too. She had cried herself to sleep since, well, since he died. I hadn't. Maybe Mags was better off with him, wherever that was. Traitor. Her or me, though? She was happy, too, though here with me. We had made a life together - Mom and I had. She loved her work. Art was her passion and a part of her. And we loved the beach. She was always making things and showing me - a purse or dress design - or she was talking about the new guy she was seeing. But she never said she _loved _them. Never. There was only love in her heart for one man. My dad. Ouch. My chest hurts. Probably from my heart ripping. I had prepared myself for dad, but mom was too much .

Dad was, well Dad. He was tall, over six feet, and he had a quick smile and bright green eyes - like me. His skin was pale and his hair was the same color as mine. I took much more after Dad than I did Mom. And he had a deep, rumbling laugh. Oh, how I missed him! Half the time I hated that I had a photographic memory, but its the other half of the time - like now - when I needed to see him that I thanked every celestial orb in the sky that I did have my sideways gift. He _always_ smelled like Irish heather in the springtime and like rain at midnight, he smelled like how home should smell. He liked to wear scratchy, knit, wool sweaters that tickled when I hugged him. His soft Irish bur was perfect for storytelling, which he did before bed every night before - before he got sick.

There were so many things that we used to do before he got sick, like go on secret picnics or surprise Mom by making cookies - and a mess in the kitchen. But I was younger and happier, loved and loving. I didn't understand. I understand now. I understand pain and heartache. Of responsibility and of hope. I understand emptiness.

Of course I am being completely melodramatic. I am not a hopelessly depressed, "misunderstood" teenager. Typically, I was _happy._ In my own way. I had suppressed memories of my father for a very long time. I had even stopped thinking about the year he had really gotten sick, had somehow stopped the images from playing in my mind's eye. Recently I had begun to think of the wonderful times we had. I wanted more time with him, yes, but I had had a mother who needed me. But now… I didn't even have that.

The trees still flashed by, the frozen ground still and hard passed quickly beneath the tires, and the sky was still dark. I was riding the opposite way this time, into town. Yesterday I had gone into the woods that bordered Charlie's property - but now I headed down the highway. I didn't care where, just away. I needed to escape my own thoughts.

As I passed the coffee shop, I noticed a _Help Wanted_ sign. I would have to look into that later. But for now I just needed to go, into the dark to a place I didn't know. Time had ceased to matter to me. I just continued down the highway.

Everything was so green in Washington. Even in the dark. It was amazingly beautiful. Green was my favorite color, until I met... why was I always thinking of the people I did not want to think about? But his amber eyes were delicious, heart-melting, warm and fathomless. And his skin: pale and seemingly luminescent. But what did it matter, really, his looks? They were just that. His looks. Superficial and supercillious to think about. What did I know about him besides the fact that he shamed all men who considered themselves good-looking? He was a god incarnate, and I had met him. But in all of the stories the gods turned out to be horrendously mean and spiteful. Look at what happened to Odysseus. And how many lovers did Zeus have? Don't even get me started on Ares, god of uselessness - I mean war.

The fact is, Edward was just too good to be real. He obviously had some kind of fatal flaw that I couldn't see yet.

The darkness still seemed to close in on me, but the moon was low and bright in the sky. There seemed to be a road veering off the highway, and if I hadn't had turned my head just then I would have missed it. My curiosity got the best of me - I took the road. It was long and lined with trees that seemed endlessly high. Deja vu. It was just as quiet as a church, a church that venerated all things living - and eerie. Perfect. I tried to keep the sound of my breathing to a soft whoosh so that it wouldn't disturb the music of the night. I didn't want to meet the Phantom tonight.

Whoa.

A huge, multi-story, Victorian farmhouse loomed out of nowhere. It was grand and painted white. It was incredibly beautiful. I had stumbled upon the lovely Victorian just as the world had begun to turn a lovely golden-pinkish color. Twilight. And then the most magnificent sound started to come from the house. Someone inside was playing a piano. It was like nothing I had ever heard before - complex and melancholy. Bittersweet. I wanted nothing more than to knock on the door of the house, but that would also be extremely rude. But I couldn't move, I was firmly planted listening as closely as I could to the faint, heavenly music that was coming from the massive, old house. But, as soon as it started it stopped. I made to turn around and head back to the highway, but the door opened and out came... Edward?


	9. Chapter 9

_***Author's note: This is the chapter that I really changed! _

_Stephenie Meyer created the universe._

**Chapter Nine:**

My face was numb with cold, but I ignored it and stared unabashedly at the heavenly boy who had, I assumed, been playing the heavenly piano music. He looked at me too, with frank curiosity on his face and that wonderfully crooked smile that he wore.

"Amergin?" I just nodded dumbly. How could I possibly explain to Edward how I ended up here, in front of his house? Of all the roads that and all the houses, I of course had to ride my bike down this one. If anyone was orchestrating the sad events of my life, he or she definitely had a sick sense of humor. "What are you doing?" he asked the question I hoped without hope he wouldn't ask.

"Hey Edward," I sounded more glum than I had meant to, "I was biking and I saw the turn off, it was sort of hidden and I was curious to see where it led. And now here we are..." I finished lamely with a flourish of my hands. He had descended from the front porch of the house, and was now a few yards away from me. He gave me my space, probably because I smelled bad from my ride. Was that it? I tried to casually sniff myself. No, not too bad really; just a mixture of sweat and fresh, Forks air-maybe a hint of citrus scented soap.

He seemed to glow in the cloudy half-light illuminating Forks. Why did he always seem to have a glowy aura? Maybe it had more to do with his sparkling personality? I looked up at the sky, instead of the boy in question. It wouldn't be sunny today as there were too many clouds. Looking back at Edward, I noticed that he was still staring at me.

Now that I had stopped running, I realized how cold it really was outside. I couldn't help but shiver while goose bumps formed up and down my bare arms and along the back of my neck.

"You do realize that it's below freezing out here, right?" he must have noticed the goose bumps, too. Or maybe he was getting cold, he was a little too far away to really see the little hair on my arm as they tried desperately to fight off the chill.

"Uh, yeah," I wasn't immuned to it, obviously, "it's not that bad though, once you're moving around," I meant it as an _I should get going soon, thanks for the chat. _But he didn't seem to understand.

"So, you like being cold?" the way he had chosen to phrase the question proved to be more patronizing and less sarcastic than I hoped he had meant phrased it so that it sounded like a very condescending and sarcastic question. Otherwise, his tone bordered on douche; which meant that I might have found this Achilles' heel. I could work with this.

"I find the cold really invigorates the whole circulatory system, and it's nice to be alone for a while, away from annoying questions," I tried to sound like I was joking, unfortunately I think it just ended up sounding a little exasperated. I mean, I wanted to help push him into jerk permanently so I stop remembering how freezing his skin had felt against mine at lunch or how I wouldn't mind being cold because him. "Well, I think I'll go now. I'm sorry to bother you. I really didn't know where the road led." And I was sorry, I was getting bone-chill cold sitting here chatting away my morning.

"Oh, Amergin." He sighed. I liked the way he said my name. I just liked the way he talked, really. It sounded like it was from a different time and his voice was like a piece of chocolate for the ears. But tried to find things to not like about _what _he had to say. He was condescending. He was condescending. I tried chanting this to myself make myself believe it. "Please come inside, you look really cold!" He pleaded. Maybe he was nice -he looked like he was genuinely concerned. I was not going to look into his eyes, though, or I would do anything he wanted me too. Jump off a cliff, for instance. Or if he decided to offer me heroine, I would probably accept. His eyes had a strange power over me that should have been illegal. And it certainly was not healthy for me to feel so frightfully attracted. I recognized aspects of my mother's behavior in this tendency. Impulsive. Drowning oneself in something addictive. Acting without thought or care to consequences just because it felt good and provided some sort of relief from reality.

"If I'm gone too long, Charlie will worry. And I'm not sure how far or for how long I've been riding, so..." I wanted to make a legitimate reason for why I couldn't go in, so I could convince myself that I shouldn't. My frozen face, fingers and feet stung in protest to this idea of riding back just yet. Traitors, all of them. "Thank you for the offer, Edward. Really. But I have to go." I turned around, but Edward was already behind me.

"How...? What...? How did you...?" Words failed me. Not even a second ago, Edward had been standing several yards away from me, and now he was a couple feet away from me looking - furious?

"Amergin." He said my name clearly and with force. "It is freezing outside and your shaking-" he hesitated for a second, I took a chance and looked at his face, it appeared that he was mulling something over, his eyes were angled downward, "I'll drive you back to your uncle's house in a little while." Was that a look of resignation on his face?

"Ummmm..." How was I going to argue with the logic of it? I was freezing. And I was looking into his eyes now, I couldn't say no to him. Even if it didn't seem like he really wanted to. And that's what helped me to make the decision. He obviously didn't want to offer this, but he felt compelled to do so. "Thank you, really. But I am going to go now. I'll be fine. I'm tougher than I look. See you in class later." And with that, I pedaled around him and didn't look back at the strangely beautiful boy and the Victorian house.

When I had made my way through most of Forks, I had convinced myself that I had somehow had a very intense dream and somehow lost all grasp on reality for a brief period of time. I now realized that it was time to start eating a little bit, even if I my appetite hadn't returned.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

By the time I had taken a shower and gotten dressed, it was time to go. Before going downstairs, I grabbed my sketchbook from my duffle, and instead threw it into my school bag.

Bella and Charlie were in the kitchen; she was eating cereal and reading the back of the Honey Nut Cheerio's box, he was munching on a piece of toast and flipping through the Sports' Section in the Seattle Times. Charlie looked different. Thinner maybe. Or sallower? He looked like someone I knew. Who, though?

"You ready, Izzy-bee?" Bella jumped a little, I don't think she realized I was in the kitchen. "We need to get going."

"Oh. Okay. I guess we should go now, Ginny." She smiled evilly as she said _Ginny_. She knew just how much I hated that nickname. I just shook it off though, and reached for an apple from the bowl at the center of the kitchen table.

"Bella, come on." She looked disappointed. Probably because I didn't react to _Ginny_—ugh—the way she had expected.

"Bella, I'm going to drive today." Just as I said it she slipped on the ice, only just managing to grab her truck in time. "We should take your truck though," I shuddered at the idea of putting chains on her tires, but didn't want to draw unnecessary attention with my jeep, when the other cars in the parking lot more closely resembled Bella's truck.

"Yeah, you probably should." As I walked over to her truck, I noticed something silver glinting on her tires. Chains. Again, the corners of my mouth were tugged into a smile. Charlie. While Bella was getting into her truck without killing herself, I ran back into the house - running straight into Charlie as he was pulling on his khaki coat to leave.

I gave him a big hug and said, "Thanks Charlie!" I wasn't used to someone else doing things like this for me. It was usually me putting the chains on my mother's car or throwing an umbrella into her purse. Charlie didn't understand how much the very small gesture meant.

When I looked up into Charlie's face, he was tomato red. "Hey kid," he said gruffly, "You're squishing me. And you're welcome." I turned to leave, but Charlie stopped me. "Wait." He went into the kitchen, I could here him opening and closing cupboards as he went. When he came back out, he was holding a granola bar, "I know that you keep saying that your not hungry and I saw that you grabbed an apple, but just eat this too - okay?" He was serious. I just nodded.

"Thanks, again, Charlie," I rushed out to Bella's truck.

The engine was loud and wonderful, almost drowning out all other noise - Bella had already turned on the ignition to heat up the cabin of the truck. I hopped into the driver's side, and off we went. I love that Bella and I could sit in complete silence and not feel the need to fill it with idle chatter.

"So...?" I was 99% sure Bella was wondering why I had run back into the house.

"Charlie put chains on the tires for us." Bella was just as surprised as I was.

"Wow."

"I know," we were almost to school. I drove cautiously because of the ice, not going nearly as fast as I would have liked, but Bella was in the car.

"Right there, there's a spot!" Bella pointed. I just nodded. She was getting awfully excited over a parking spot. I restrained myself from scanning the parking lot for Edward. After we jumped out of the car, Bella started examining the tire on the passenger side of her truck by the hood while I was standing by the bed of the pick-up just staring into space considering the day - when _it_ happened.

I saw the van before I heard it. It was going way too fast. Then the shrill, metal on metal sound pierced the peaceful morning - creating chaos in the parking lot. The possessed van was heading straight for me - I was going to die. Everything was going really fast - not at all like the scenes in the movies. Where were the flashbacks?

"Bella," I yelled, "GO!" I didn't know where she should go, she wasn't really in any danger - unlike myself - but I didn't want her to get hurt. No. Before I could think any further, my body reacted. It was an instinct and I was running, running as fast I could to the right - but I slipped on ice. Ice! Falling, falling, falling... I wasn't going to die by a car, but I was going to die because I didn't look where my feet were going.

The van crashed into Bella's truck with a dull, metallic thunk, but I only saw the fading faces of a crowd surrounding me. The last face I saw before I totally seceded into the blackness was Edward's. And then the flashbacks started - finally. The waves were crashing all around me as I held my parents hands. Then nothing.

Unconsciousness. Blissful nothing.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Fog. Nothingness. Swirls of color and light. Where in the world was I? Had I died? Blackness came swiftly and held me.

...

It was different this time. Not just light and color. Not just mist. There were feelings. And not just from me. Something hot and cold. I could feel it. I liked it. But I was trapped in this stupid abyss of light and color. Of fog and confusion. Of the dead. Did I really want to get out of this muted world? It made me feel light. Like the colors around me. And I knew that there was something unpleasant about being awake, but I just couldn't wrap my finger around it. The darkness came back, reclaiming me yet again. I tried to fight it off this time. Only for a second. But it won.

...

Again with the colors and lights. A headache? I liked the pain-free version of this half world better. But the colors and lights and fog were still there, protecting me and keeping me pleasantly... in the dark. I liked the blackness better. Better than the semi-world. I liked the thoughtlessness of the dark. Of the constant world of night. When it came, I embraced it. I was ready. I had remembered what I so desperately wanted to forget.

...

Everything was dark. I wondered for a short second if this was what if felt like to die, leading me to thought half forgotten-that my family was gone. That my mother had chosen to leave me.

The smell, though. There was no way that I was dead. Not yet, anyway. A heavy sigh brought pain to my raw throat. What happened to the colors? The lights? What did any of it mean?

Instead of the painless world of dark and light, I was in a hospital. I might as well have been dead. My insides squirmed at the thought of laying in a hospital bed. Just that image sent me reeling. Yuck. The nauseating smell of antiseptic and rubber gloves brought back the memories. Memories I hadn't wanted to remember. Memories I had tried so very hard to forget. I had to shove the images that floated into my vision down into the reassesses of my memory, where they belonged. Beneath every embarrassing and traumatic memory. Underneath running into the boys' bathroom in junior high. Underneath the day I got braces. The Antarctica of my brain, that's where I tried to banish the thoughts. To no avail. My father swam in my mind's eye. Pale white and hollow, hair shaved and tubes sticking out everywhere, laying in his hospital bed telling the doctor that he would prefer to go home. To die in peace. I could hear the doctor try to dissuade hime and the crease my father's brow made as he listened politely. I could count the number of time my mother's foot tapped as she sat silently watching her husband negotiate the terms of his death.  
The awful heart monitor that was beeping somewhere in this godforsaken room was mimicked in my memory - though the one that played now was faster and more erratic. I chewed on the bottom of my lip and practiced feeling all of my physical aches and hearing the soft snoring coming from somewhere in my room. The present. Safe. Not scary at all. I could deal with the present. The pinch from what I could only assume was an IV drip on my left arm helped secure me in the present. It felt right.

First I wiggled my toes, then my fingers. Good. I could move at least, but I felt like the tin man - before Dorothy came along with the oil. I was lying on my back in the hospital bed. It was terribly cold, I could feel the hard goose bumps on my skin and the sparse, blond hairs rising on my arms. My muscles ached, not from injury, but from disuse. I was never one to sit still - ever. Before all of this, I rarely ever stopped moving. But now... Margaret is gone. That one impossible thought resonated through the room as if someone had shouted it. Was it even possible? It was almost like I had forgotten, or simply just pushed it away - like the rest of my nightmarish memories - choosing not to think about it. Even so, it felt as if I had just relived learning about Mom's death. The blue and red flashes played as her pooling blood haunted me.

How long had I been here? Hours or Months? Days or Years? What happened? I didn't want to open my eyes to find out. I was afraid. Afraid to wake up and have to know, for certain, that it was not my mother's soft snoring. Coward. That's what I was. Not before, though. Before I would have challenged a bear to a wrestling match, but now I was not so sure. Would I? I wanted to scream YES! Of course I would wrestle a bear. I still wanted to be the girl I knew I had been, so badly. Deep inhale, one, two, three, deep exhale; I opened my eyes.

It was dark in the small room that I was in. Charlie was asleep in a chair in the corner. A small part of me was disappointed, but that part gave way quickly. My sweet Uncle Charlie. How long had he waited for me in that chair? He looked so tired and pale. Stressed, too. And he still looked so much like someone that I knew. But who? For having a great memory, how could I not recognize who it was?

The blinds were closed. I could always check outside the room to figure out the time. I had wanted to move anyway. I quickly tried to hop out of the bed: bad idea. Dizziness crashed into me, much like the truck had; threatening me with unconsciousness with the very same blackness that I had welcomed early. But not right now. The pain in my chest nearly brought me down. I let out a moan of pain as I reached for the side of the bed to steady my quaking legs and thudding heart. The heart monitor went crazy.

Charlie woke with a start. His head whipped around the room looking for the disturbance. Charlie must have been sleeping on pins and needles. Now, he was staring at me as if I was a ghost.

"Charlie" I tried to say, though it sounded like a hoarse, mumbled rasp of air. I cleared my throat and tried again. "Charlie?" And even as I talked, his shocked expression thawed. He was smiling. He looked so relieved. I smiled at him, just glad to see that he was okay.

"Amergin! Oh god! You gave us quite a scare, kid!" Charlie was pushing me back into bed and arranging pillows so that I was sitting up. "I want you to stay in bed until the doctor comes in." My eyes tingled a little with tears that seemed to be all too frequent as of lately - I was so used to being the caregiver, but here I was.

"Mhm," I nodded. I felt awful and guilty. I had made my Uncle suffer needlessly for however long I had been a vegetable. And I had promised myself to act normal for his sake. What a jerk."Hey Charlie. Sorry." I whispered - my throat was still sore - and gave him a weak smile. He looked as if he were going to cry, too.

"Amergin," his voice was full of emotion as he grabbed my hand. Charlie was never good at emotional situations and was starting to show it. "I'm going to, um, get the doctor and... call Bella - she would have been here, but I told her to go home and rest." Good, I was glad that she went home and would have said so if my throat didn't feel like I had been gargling broken glass. Instead I just nodded, Bella didn't need to stay here and worry about me, I felt bad enough that Charlie was here losing sleep over me. Charlie hurried out the door. I couldn't help a small smile. Lovable Charlie. If nothing else, I was lucky to have Charlie.

Seconds later, the door Charlie had disappeared through opened. Edward Cullen. I could feel the smile slip from my face, he just stood in the doorway. Maybe he would just go away if I acted as if he wasn't there, pretend like I hadn't seen him, close my eyes and try to become a part of the bed sheets. But hiding just wasn't something I would normally do. It wasn't me. It didn't fit into who I thought I was, anyway. I kept my eyes opened, staring silently at him. When he spoke, his voice was like the most perfect song. The most amazing sound.

"Hello. May I come in?" So polite. Too polite. Suspicion coursed through my veins, more powerful than the morphine in the IV drip.

"Yeah," My voice sounded awful, and felt worse. I really wanted to know why he kept making an appearance in my life. Edward walked over to my bedside, stood awkwardly, then sat down. I asked aloud, "What are you doing here?"

"We missed you at school," he said, indirectly answering my question. Leaning in, he confided, "You really worried me. You've been out for quite a while."

"How long?" He made it seem longer than just a day. "What time is it?"

"Today is Thursday." Oh. Wow, hadn't expected him to say that, "It's almost nine." I bit my lip, trying to think of something to say, but my mind was still blank and slow. The result of pain meds, I guess. Edward just sat on the chair beside my bed looking amazing. He was wearing simple, well-made clothing - like the ones he had been wearing on Monday. Classic boat shoes, dark jeans and a grey sweater that both clearly were designer, nothing any teenager in Forks would ever wear. His sweater was pulled up to his elbows, revealing hard muscles and white skin, a marble statue come to life. I obviously, at some point, lost my mind. I was clinically insane for feeling so attracted to someone I didn't know on the basis that he made me feel funny. I was too young to let lust takeover decision making, that was for college.

"Well," I said, still chewing my lip. I just needed to leap, no looking, just leap, "Edward, it seems that we keep running into each other. It's actually kind of weird that you…" I had a difficult time admitting this last part, it would make me look crazy. I took a deep breath that rubbed sandpaper in my throat. I hadn't looked at Edward yet. Instead I had been picking at my IV and thinking about how much I wished I could just hit the rewind button. To just have a nice fairy-lady bring me a pair of red, sparkly shoes so that I could just click my heals three times and go home. I wasn't asking for much - I didn't need singing munchkins or a cowardly lion. But, unfortunately the real world wasn't so happy, so I continued, "…It's kind of weird. The last thing I remember was you appearing next to me out of nowhere, I had specifically remembered seeing you by your car on the other side of the parking lot when I drove in. it was a lot like that morning, when…" that I couldn't finish. I had convinced myself that it hadn't happened, that my imagination somehow had kicked itself into overdrive from lack of sleep and food.

"You must be mistaken," I looked at him, then. He was staring at me intently, speaking with his eyes, trying to convey something that my sluggish brain was not comprehending at all. The only thing I could see in his fathomless eyes - which appeared almost black, in comparison to Tuesday - was a warning. A warning of what though?

"No," I just couldn't let this go; I would not let him make me feel crazy, "I am positive you were next to me. You are the last thing I remember before everything goes black," I finished in a whisper, more to my self than to anyone else. And then I decided that I couldn't pretend that morning hadn't happened either, because it furthered my own argument, and I had never known myself to be delusional, " and that morning, Tuesday, when I was trying to leave your house. Somehow you apparated and appeared in front of me when I turned around."

His smile twisted his face into something that was both lovely and crooked; his eyes were questioning me, almost asking, how much morphine did they give you? But there was also something there that clearly said, don't do this, "I think that the pain medication is playing with your memory. That's not humanly possible," somehow, I could hear he had a private joke hidden somewhere in his words.

"I can honestly say," I replied softly, "that I have never, ever had reason to question a memory. In fact, I trust my memory implicitly. It has never failed me. There's something strange about this whole thing, Cullen. I'd like to know what it is." There was no need to make it a question. He knew that either he had to leave or else explain himself and his oddness. He looked at me sadly.

"Can we forget about this? Let sleeping dogs lie, as it were?" he muttered hopefully.

"If only I could forget, there would be a massive memory purging," I breathed, "I can't forget this," I said to him, "either spill or gtfo. Seriously. My life sucks enough; I don't need dishonesty, too. Thanks for being there when I needed someone. I'm pretty sure you saved my life somehow, but you obviously have your own set of issues, too." I had found in the past that hyper-rationality scared people away. Maybe Edward would walk away and I wouldn't be reminded of his beauty any longer. I tried to not let the hurt my words caused him bother me overly much.

"What do you mean if you could forget you would have a 'massive memory purging?'" his question caught me off guard. I hadn't thought he had heard that.

"I hadn't realized…" I was stuttering, "I'm surprised you heard that. But it doesn't matter why I said it. You've done some pretty impossible things—in front of me. And I can't ignore them anymore. So I gave you options, take them or leave them."

"How about we compromise. We can each get to know a little bit about each other over the course of the next few days? You can figure out what you'd like about me, I can answer some questions about you—everyone wins," his proposal seemed fair enough, but it made me uneasy. I didn't like to reveal myself too quickly. Life a game of poker, you gotta play the hand your dealt close—and I had a few trump cards that I preferred to keep especially hidden. But, learning about Edward Cullen was a temptation I wasn't sure I wanted to pass up.

"Hmmmm…" I wasn't sure how best to insinuate that I was doing him a favor by accepting his terms and conditions, "I guess. I don't think that you're really getting as much out of this deal as you think you are, but hey."

"I think that this trade is more than fair," he said smiling crookedly.

"Let's shake on it," I whispered huskily back, remembering the last time we touched and how oddly invigorating it felt, "or maybe we could drink on it? I would love a glass of water." At this he chuckled, turning to find a pitcher of water and cups on a table near the window.

"We can do both," he announced handing me a glassful of water and proffering his hand. As our hands touched, there was that noticeable tingle, again.

"Let's begin now. You are from California, correct?" I nodded, a little dazed from his suddenness, "What part?"

"You may have heard of it, Santa Barbara? It's right on the coast, about two hours north of L.A. And where are you from?"

"Yes," He smiled his crooked smile again, "I have actually visited Santa Barbara. It is a beautiful town. I've been a great many places," he replied enigmatically.

"Not fair," obviously we had different ideas as to how this whole sharing thing would work, "you sound like you spent sometime in the Midwest, and then moved to the west coast. You can't just expect me to tell you where I'm from and then give that shitty answer," my tone clearly annoyed.

"Well, okay then," he looked at me, "I suppose we should set some ground rules for our arrangement. I think that all answers should be honest."

"But we, of course, have the option to not answer. We just can't lie. We don't know each other well enough to lie." I added to our promises to each other, but he looked a little confused, so I elaborated, "If you're starting out getting to know a person on a superficial level, you can lie by omission. Everyone does it. When you know someone for a while though, you start lying—take yourself for example. I don't mean you, Edward Cullen. I mean the you that lies to yourself to help you sleep at night. You know? It's the same kind of lying you tell close friends."

"Well, that was insightful," he looked at me like I was crazy. That had been something I had written in my sketchbook, but hadn't shared. He pressed the issue further by asking, "but I think I understand what you mean. We can keep our secrets, but we have to be honest. I am originally from Chicago, but I have not been there for a very long time."

"I thought I could hear that, I think. The way you say your 'a' is just a little flatter," I nodded in approval.

"Even though you were bothered by my vague answer, it wasn't as if you were being completely honest either," his eyes clearly disapproving.

"What do you mean? You asked if I was from California," I wasn't sure what he meant.

"If we're playing the accent game, I can hear a little of yours," he said, "which means that you are not from California."

"Your question didn't really leave room for that. And now we're crossing into different territory. Our rules are simple, give honest answers—but they don't have to be soul bearing. If you ask me what I do for my morning routine, I'm gonna gloss over some stuff," I could tell that the bargain we struck was going to be tedious, and also that I was going to be able to get over Edward's looks quickly his personality was icier than the weather north of the Wall. I added slightly annoyed, "I spent a good part of the beginning of my life in Ireland, and go back yearly. Maybe that's what you're hearing?"

"Okay, I guess I'll have to phrase my questions better. But I think that there should be a sense of privacy to some things. Let's keep the topics relatively light. How about, do you surf?"

"If you've been to SB, then you know that the answer is a resounding yes. The surfing back home leaves something to be desired, but they're great waves to learn on" I wanted to get over the back and forth squabble, so I asked, "Do you surf? You said you've visited the central coast."

"I have, but I don't go that often. My family likes to vacation in South America, and the surf isn't bad," Surfing was one of my favorite things, especially in South America. the waves in Argentina and Costa Rica were great. Actually, anything outside in Latin America seemed a little more exciting than stateside.

"OH!" I exclaimed. By that time, the pain in my throat was no more than a slight annoyance, "Don't you love it? It's been two years since I was in Brazil, but last summer I spent most of my time in Guatemala, and slummed my way through the other Central America."

"It can be quite enjoyable, yes." He chuckled a little as he said it. Edward was unbelievably well spoken for…17? He was so different from anyone that I had ever met, to be honest. Well spoken and gentlemanly, his manners matched the leading men of novels rather than high school lab partner. And then there was the fact that he was absurdly beautiful and moved gracefully, like a big cat. He also had shown himself to be secret-keeper and quick-witted. And now I knew t hat he surfed - sometimes. That was my short list of information on Edward. And I wanted to know more because he seemed interesting, but the sass could get on my nerves.

"Do you have a favorite color, Cullen?" That was always an important question when getting to know someone, it seemed.

"Cullen?" He asked smiling, but then answered my question, "Well, I think I am quite partial to the color green." He said it almost as if it was a private joke. I would have to figure that one out later. But this was good. I loved the color green. There were so many different hues, though, and it was everywhere. "Do you have a favorite color?" I ignored his question and asked one of my own, instead.

"What shade of green do you like the best?"

"There are many different greens - and my favorite seems to change -" he smiled at his private joke again, "but right now I think I like a bright green - almost like the color of spring grass." His voice made a song, a poem, out of what he was saying. So he was poetic, sort of—another great thing to add to my growing short list. "You didn't answer my question yet, remember?"

"Right. I like green a lot, too. But more of a greenish grey, that's the color of my room back home." I said shrugging. "It's the color of my eyes." Once I said this, Edward smiled at something I obviously didn't get. It was infuriating not knowing what could possibly be so funny. Oh well. Green wasn't my absolute favorite color. Right now that would be the color of Edward's eyes. A dark, nearly black amber. The color of fossilized amber or expensive brandy in the bottle.

"But...?" I guess he could tell that I wasn't exactly sold on green.

"I love something about all of the colors. I don't know if I could just pick one." I shrugged again. "I stick to the color black, but then white is good, too." I could go on. The color of the sky. The clouds during the sunset. The ocean during a storm. The sand on the beach. I didn't say any of them. Instead I started on another question, "Do you have a favorite food?" Edward's face twisted into a very odd expression - a grimace almost- but a soft tap on the door frame stopped him from responding.

"Excuse me," said a blond, very handsome man in a doctor's coat from the doorway. Charlie stood right beside him. And Charlie was smiling. He was probably just happy to see me less depressed-I knew how much it hurt him, I just couldn't help how I felt. No matter how hard I tried to hide if from him. "Edward," so he knew Edward, "I need to talk to Miss Casey and Chief Swann privately." His voice was smooth and had just the tiniest hint of an accent. British maybe?

"Amergin!" came Bella's voice from behind Charlie as Edward got up from the chair. He gave me a private smile and silently exited the room. Bella took his spot in seconds; setting down the bag she was carrying. And then she jumped up and gave me a soft hug, saying "I am so glad to see you awake!" I gave her a smile, then focused on the doctor and Charlie.

"Hello Amergin, I'm Doctor Cullen-" so that's how he knew Edward, they're related, "and I am so glad, as Bella said, to see you awake. You hit your head pretty hard Tuesday. You are going to be just fine, but I have something important to discuss with you" Ugh. He continued, "You need to start eating on a regular basis. When you came to the hospital you were actually malnourished, dehydrated, and actually underweight." When had I last eaten? "Now, I have prescribed for you fairly strong pain pills. This is because once the morphine wares off, you're going to feel quite a bit of pain due to a cracked rib and the bruises you sustained in the accident." As long as was the pain was physical, I could most certainly deal with it, "Those were really my main concerns. On a lighter note: I would like to make sure that when you go outside, you wear clothing that is a little warmer. It has been dreadfully cold lately, and I would hate for you to become ill." He said all of this while probing my head and checking my neck. "You're good to go, but make sure to take it easy." Dr. Cullen concluded.

"When will the rib heal up? Will I be running anytime soon? As long as it doesn't really hurt, can I do whatever I'd like?" I needed to know how restricted I needed to be.

"I would wait a few weeks for the running, as far as everything else, just listen to your body. Don't do anything to physical. Do you have any other questions I can answer?" I shook my head, "Well, if you do have any questions you can always get in contact with me. I will see you around, Amergin," and with that, he smiled and turned to talk with Charlie outside of the room. Bella was sitting silently in the chair beside me, twisting her fingers and thinking.

"What's on your mind Bella?" She shrugged.

"Nothing really." She was lying. I could read her face like a book - one in large print. Bella, my favorite and only cousin, was the sweetest, but she had things that could get on my nerves: her constant self-sacrificing, how she saw everything but interpreted it in the wrong way, her stubborness, her shallowness, and her complete inability to hide any of her feelings. I mean, I caught myself doing all of the things that I found annoying in Bella—but even though my house was glass, I was going to cast a few stones. Because, these traits were fundamental parts of Bella, as a person.

"Bella, honestly, do you think I'm that foolish?" I reprimanded her. She knew she was a bad liar, why did she even try?

"I know, I know." She sighed heavily, "It's just that, well... Edward." She finally gave up with trying to put what she meant in words. What could she mean by that? Sigh... Edward? It wasn't even a sigh, just a huff. OH. She liked him... too. She could have him. She deserved him. I did not. I was not ready to be human.

"Do you like him?" she nodded. "He seems very nice. And I'm sure he likes you - he would have to be super human to resist you, Bella." We both laughed half-heartedly at my lame attempt to joke about the situation. Bella didn't open up about boy stuff very often, and I had no desire to jump into another mess. But he could be perfect for Bella; she pretended to be middle-aged, while he actually seemed to have an older soul.

"He is. But I think he likes you..." she trailed off, now trying to hide her own disappointment by looking happy for me. If she only knew...

"No, I doubt it." I could be secretly pleased that she thinks that at a different time, right now was "build up Bella's ego time." I had to tell Bella about how pretty she was and how he would be stupid not to see it but Charlie interrupted. Saved by the knock.

"Dr. Cullen just finished signing the discharge papers," Charlie walked out into the hallway again, then came back wheeling a wheel chair, "we can go now." Good. The sooner I left the hospital the better.

The wheelchair was always the worst part about coming to the hospital: if you were the one who was sick, you had to leave the hospital in the chair. Bella silently handed me the bag she brought in. I peered in—clothing. She didn't want the hospital see my ass?

"We'll wait out here." Once they left, I ripped off the hospital issued gown and gingerly on my own sweats and sweatshirt. Then, I put on my moccasin slippers - woo hoo Bella! Thoughtful. Bella was careful with what she though and did, Edward would be crazy not to like Bella.

As we left the hospital, I thought about what I had to do to stop moping around so Charlie would go back to his usual Charlie-self. I would need to call some people. This weekend was about to be fantastic.

Getting into Chief Swan's cruiser, I noticed a bronze flash go through the parking lot. Odd. Maybe my eyes really were playing tricks on me.

On the way to Charlie's house I was still making lists of everything I needed to do on my phone, which I had found in the bag Bella brought. Charlie's house was going to be de-cluttered. It was originally Margaret's idea. This would be perfect for... everyone.

A/N-

So, basically, a filler chapter. But more exciting things are yet to come. Including: Jake, secrets, and a really angry Rosalie!


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